A Song for the Silent
by dancer4ver
Summary: He was broken, but not beyond repair. He eased her loneliness with his music and she healed him with her love. A song doesn't always have to end when the keys stop moving. Austria/Hungary. AU.
1. The First Song

Title: A Song for the Silent

Genre: Drama/Romance

Rating: T

Summary: He was broken, but not beyond repair. He eased her loneliness with his music and she healed him with her love. A song doesn't always have to end when the keys stop moving. Austria/Hungary. AU.

Pairings: Austria/Hungary, Spain/Romano, Spain/Austria (implied), Prussia/France

**A/N:** Nothing much to say except I really enjoy writing AusHun fics set in WWII. For this one I wasn't sure whether or not German soldier got leave (I actually don't think they did), but for the sake of this story, assume that they get leave. Also, this was originally supposed to be a one-shot, but turned into a three-shot. Let's hope it doesn't go further than that ;)

Please enjoy~

**Extra Note: **I used Elizaveta in _Traveling Soldier_, but I'm going to use Elizabeta here. Again, read what you will.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, but I do own this story**

**

* * *

**_A Song for the Silent_

_The First Song  
_

If Elizabeta had known that the train was going to be late, she would have worn her gloves. Instead she stood on the crowded platform breathing heavily on her bright red fingers, ignoring the disproving glances from the woman next to her. Before the war, her stockings would have been made of the thickest wool, but now only a thin layer of material separated her legs from the below zero temperatures. She shifted quickly from foot to foot, attempting to bring circulation back to her body and stamped her boots for added measure, almost smirking as the scowling woman wrinkled her nose and fully turned away.

_Of all the days for the train to be late_, Elizabeta thought angrily. _And of all the days for a blizzard…_

A murmur suddenly rose up from the crowd as a plume of gray smoke appeared over the hill followed soon by the sight of a gleaming black engine that stood starkly out against the falling white snow. A cheer rose up from the crowd and Elizabeta could barely keep herself from running down the tracks as she joined in, although the sound of her voice was hardly audible in the cacophony of elated cries.

What was only a few minutes seemed like hours as every person on the platform waited—some in fear, others in furious excitement—for the train to pull into the station. It had not even come to a full stop before the crowd rushed forward, the angry yells of the station master unheard as the first car door slid open. There was a loud silence in the station as a hundred pairs of eyes watched the dark opening, waiting for the first passenger to descend.

There was sharp intake of breath as the sound of footsteps approached the door. The poor boy who stepped down from the train car nearly jumped back in fright at the booming cheer that accompanied his arrival.

The boys were back. At least for some time…

They stepped off the train one by one into the arms of the crowd that greedily took them in. Elizabeta stood on her toes and craned her neck to see above the heads and waving hands. There were only two people on that train that she cared about.

She didn't have to wait long. When the first stepped off the train, it was, unfortunately, with his usual "unique" flourish.

"No need to worry your little heads anymore, people. Gilbert Beilschmidt is back!" Despite her excitement, Elizabeta groaned, although the crowd cheered. Gilbert posed in front of the train car doorway, the sunlight reflecting off his silver colored hair and only adding to the dramatic image.

"Now I know how much you all missed me—please no tears, darling—but who can really blame you? What's this town without me?"

The crowd cheered again and Gilbert jumped happily into the fray of waving arms. When his brother stepped off the train a few seconds later, he only shook his head at his brother who was now being lifted into the air by the overjoyed people.

"Ludwig! Gilbert!" Elizabeta screamed, although it was just then that a large gust of wind blew into the station, sending Elizabeta's words back at her. She cursed loudly as she readjusted her hat that had been knocked askew. Looking back up she was shocked to discover that both men had disappeared from sight and the crowd was moving eagerly to the next train car. She glanced furtively around the station but there was no sign of Gilbert's tell-a-tale white shock of hair and it would be never-ending game to discern Ludwig's bright yellow among the countless blond heads. Swearing underneath her breath, Elizabeta prepared herself to push through the crowd, intent on reaching higher ground, but was stopped by an arm on her shoulder.

"Hey sweetie, you look kind of lost. Maybe I can help you out." Came the suggestive voice from behind.

_Of all the days…_Clenching her hand into a tight fist, Elizabeta whirled around, fully ready to deliver her response until she met a pair of mischievous looking red eyes.

Although the desire to inflict pain on an idiotic pervert had vanished from her thoughts, in her shock, Elizabeta's fist kept moving, colliding with Gilbert's cheek and sending him stumbling back.

He swore as he struggled to regain his balance and clutched his face. "What the hell? What was that for?"

Elizabeta didn't know whether to hug him or scream at him, she was too shocked to do anything but stare as he angrily rubbed his reddening cheek.

"That's what you get for trying to sneak up on her." Ludwig stood next to her brother, looking at him with a disproving look. When he turned to Elizabeta, the frown had softened, although to say he was smiling would still be an exaggeration.

"I'm sorry about that Eliza—mph!"

It took only a step and a leap for Elizabeta to throw her arms around Ludwig. She felt him stiffen in surprise then relax slightly in her embrace.

"I missed you so much." She said softly.

"It's good to see you too" He replied, the embarrassment obvious in his voice.

"So I get punched in the face and he gets a hug?" Gilbert said, his face twisted into something between a pout and a sneer.

Elizabeta released her grip on Ludwig and turned to him frowning.

"I should hit you again for pulling a stupid stunt like that!" She snapped. She moved towards him and he flinched, taking a step backwards as she reached out.

Unlike his sensible brother, Gilbert never wore gloves so his hand was only slightly warmer than Elizabeta's as she gripped it tightly. She met his eyes and smiled.

"Welcome home Gilbert." She reached out and took Ludwig's hand and glanced between them both—the warm feeling in her chest expanding despite the frigid weather.

"Welcome home, both of you." She said.

* * *

"So how long will you be staying?" Elizabeta asked as she opened the door to the small, but warm apartment. As it was a special occasion, she had set up a small fire in the fireplace before she had left, deciding for once to ignore the ration on firewood.

"A week." Ludwig said, stamping his booted feet on the welcome mat before slipping the boots off and arraigning them neatly by the door. He took both his and his brother's bags—Gilbert had dropped his at the bottom of the stairs in his excitement to reach the apartment—to their respective rooms before returning to the living room.

Elizabeta felt her heart sink. "Only a week?"

"That's what I said." Gilbert chimed in as he moved past his brother, dropping into the nearest couch, his snow covered boots still firmly in place. "How dare they give me such a short leave? I deserve at least 3 weeks."

Elizabeta scowled at him. "The only thing you deserve is a kick in the head. There is snow all over my just cleaned carpet. Take those boots off now!"

Gilbert made a face. "Still as grumpy as ever." Suddenly he smirked. "It's because you missed me so much, right?"

"I'm going to show you just how much I missed you if you don't take those boots off now." She threatened.

"But they keep my feet so warm!" Gilbert whined.

"Now!"

"Fine. Fine." Gilbert muttered, unlacing the boots and throwing them casually over his shoulder once they were off.

"Happy?" He asked.

Elizabeta bit her lip to hold back the insult that was on the tip of her tongue. The two brothers had only been back for less than an hour. There would be plenty of time to yell at Gilbert later.

"No." She said as she strode out of the room into one of the adjacent bedrooms.

"Wait! What did I do?" Gilbert asked, looking at Ludwig for an explanation.

"What you always do." Ludwig said shaking his head.

"So a good thing?"

"No."

"Look who's been waiting to see you two." Elizabeta called as she came out of the bedroom with a large cage in her hands. Within the cage was a small yellow bird that bounced off the walls excitedly, chirping so loud that it could only be described as very happy.

"Gilbird!" Gilbert jumped up from his seat to crouch in front of the cage. If the bird had been happy before, it was ecstatic now; flying into the bars with such a force that Elizabeta had to tighten her grip on the cage.

"Did he miss me?" He asked.

"He's been miserable." Elizabeta admitted, although she spoke more for herself than the bird. "I wanted to bring him to the station, but I didn't want the poor thing to freeze."

"Well I'm back now, buddy so more feeling sad, OK?" Gilbert opened the cage and was instantly hit in the face by the fluffy yellow bird. Elizabeta couldn't help but smiled as the bird flew happily around Gilbert. It flew once around Ludwig—who regarded it with a slightly pleased look—before settling onto Gilbert's head.

"I still don't understand why that bird chose _you_ of all people." Elizabeta said.

Childishly, Gilbert stuck his tongue out at her. "You're just jealous that you don't have a cute little bird who likes to sleep on your head."

She rolled her eyes. "Because that's my greatest wish in the world. A fuzzy ball of fluff sitting on my head all day."

Gilbird chirped at her with an obviously offended tone. She winced.

"Sorry Gilbird."

"You horrid woman. Insulting my Gilbird like that." Gilbert frowned at her.

"I didn't mean to insult him!" Elizabeta protested.

"I'm sure," Gilbert said sarcastically. He turned back towards the couch, carefully settling back onto it so that Gilbird did not tumble off.

"So where are we going tonight?" He asked once comfortable.

"But you just got back!" Elizabeta was shocked. "Don't you even want to rest a little?"

"She's right, brother." Ludwig said. "And even if you're not tired, I am. That was a very long train ride." He started towards the kitchen. "Do you still keep the towels in the top cupboard Elizabeta?"

She smiled at him. "Oh, don't worry yourself Ludwig. Gilbert will take care of his mess."

"I will?"

"Do you want me to get out the frying pan?"

"…Where are those towels again?"

"That's a good boy. Top cupboard."

"I can't _believe_ you're making me work. I just got back!" Gilbert grumbled as he stood up from the couch for a second time. Gilbird chirped in indignation, agreeing with his master.

"You just said you wanted to go out tonight!"

"And I still do!" Gilbert shouted from the kitchen. When he came out he had two towels clutched in his hands. "We have only a week here and I don't intend to waste a single night."

"Where would we even go?" Elizabeta asked. "Most places are closed now that there's no one there to work."

"How about ‚Den goldenen Fuß'*?" Gilbert asked as he bent down to wipe up the first of his now melted snow prints.

Elizabeta thought for a second. "Actually, I think they might be still open. Except I think they close Monday and Wednesday."

"Well today's Friday so that's no problem for us at all." Gilbert said cheerfully.

"I don't want to go." Ludwig said.

"Why do you always have to be such a bore, West?" Gilbert said, using the old nickname.

"He's sensible. Something you're not." Elizabeta shot back. "You should spend the rest of today relaxing. We can go out tomorrow."

"But that's not awesome at all! And tomorrow you're going to say exactly the same thing or some other stupid excuse." He clasped his hands together next to his cheek in a display of mock distress and his voice went up an octave as he spoke in what was apparently supposed to be an imitation of Elizabeta. "Oh Gilbert you sexy, handsome, man you, although I don't know how I can resist your irresistible charm and charisma, we cannot go out tonight because Ludwig has lady cramps."

Although he was tempted to let her do as she will, Ludwig still placed a light, but firm hand on Elizabeta's shoulder to prevent her from jumping onto Gilbert at that moment. The tenants of the small building had enough trouble in their life without having to deal with screams of pain.

"And the next night will be the same thing until a week has gone by and the only thing I would have seen will be these four walls." Gilbert's voice reverted to its usual obnoxious drawl, but faltered slightly as he continued, the previous cheerfulness falling away. "And then it will be back to the front…"

Ludwig felt Elizabeta's shoulders sag beneath his grip. He sighed because he knew what was coming and knew that he would agree.

"…Fine." She said. When she turned to him she had her best smile in place. "Gilbert's right. We can't waste a second of our time together."

Ludwig nodded. "I agree."

"HELL YEAH!" Gilbert jumped in the air, the towels falling onto the floor. Startled and displaced, Gilbird flew back to his cage, deciding it would probably be best to stay there for now.

Gilbert grabbed his jacket and his boots were still unlaced as he ran out the door saying something about "getting beer before tonight" over his shoulder.

"He never remembers to put anything away." Ludwig said. He glanced at Elizabeta to find that the smile had slid off her face, her green eyes dark and clouded.

"Elizabeta?"

She started as if she had forgotten that she wasn't alone. "Oh, sorry. I was...thinking about something else. I'll take care of the mess."

She picked up the discarded wet towels to take them back to kitchen.

"You can talk to me if you would like." Ludwig felt his cheeks heat up as Elizabeta turned to him. He was never good at expressing himself or conversing comfortably with others but after seeing someone that sad, you couldn't just let them go without offering your help—especially if that person was as close as a sister.

"If you ever need to." He mumbled.

"Thank you Ludwig." She gave him a small smile. "And I'm glad to have you back."

* * *

The line to ‚Den goldenen Fuß'was longer than Elizabeta had anticipated, but when she thought about it, it wasn't particularly surprising. Tonight was a night of celebration and most people seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Gilbert. Time was short and they didn't intend to waste a second of it.

The music from the club drifted out into the cold night and Elizabeta couldn't help but tap her foot to the beat. ‚Den goldenen Fuß'played a wide variety of music but was most noted for their 1920s American style jazz and fast paced swing dances. Before the war Elizabeta had rarely been there and most people—including herself—did not particularly approve of the music style, but it was not music that they were at war with so complaints were minimal.

"This is going to be awesome." Gilbert said grinning as they stepped into the warm dance hall. Elizabeta had barely removed her jacket before he grabbed her hand, giving her barely enough time to hand it over to the attendant before she was pulled onto the dance floor.

"Who said I wanted to dance with you?" Although she wasn't familiar with the song, she knew the style and the steps came easy to her.

"So you would rather dance with West? You know he has two left feet." They moved perfectly in sync. For someone as loud and boorish as he was, Gilbert was extremely at ease on the dance floor. Each step was smooth and fluid like he didn't even have to think about it.

"At least he's a gentleman." The music hit a crescendo and Gilbert dipped her dramatically. She could barely repress a shiver at the close proximity of their faces.

"Yes, but he's not _me_." He pulled her back up and spun her before she could reply. Neither of them spoke anymore as they moved until one dance had become three and Elizabeta was sweating in the most unladylike manner.

"Break. Now." She gasped, although she was grinning widely.

"You're no fun." Gilbert said, but led her to the table where Ludwig had been sitting stoically. So far he had turned down all offers to dance, however, the ladies in the club—most who had not seen a fit man under the age of 65 in months—were not giving up without a fight.

"Don't tell me you're going to sit here all night, West." Gilbert said as Elizabeta dropped into a chair.

"I'm comfortable where I am." Ludwig said, before taking a sip of the beer in hand.

"If you don't dance with at least one person tonight, _I'll_ dance with you." Gilbert laughed at the horrified look on his brothers face, although to Elizabeta, the idea of two men moving together in something as personal and…sensual as dancing was quite…exhilarating.

"Would you like me to order you a drink Elizabeta? You're looking quite red." Ludwig motioned to a passing waiter.

"Ah, y-yes! A water would be great. Thanks." She grabbed a napkin of the table and fanned herself to cool down not only her body but her thoughts.

"If we could have your attention ladies and gentlemen." The music had stopped as the band leader took the microphone. He made a motion and the lights in the dance hall suddenly dimmed until a single spotlight was fixed on him. "We have a very special guest tonight. "

"Hitler?" Gilbert hissed as he sat down. Elizabeta elbowed him in the face.

"Please put your hands together for Mr. Roderich Edelstein."

The name was not familiar to Elizabeta, but she joined in the applause as a young man in a wheelchair was brought out and wheeled towards the grand piano that had been placed in the center of the dance floor.

"What's all the fuss about?" Gilbert whispered, rubbing his nose. "He's just some brat. Looks kind of prissy from here too."

"Do you want me to hit you again?" Elizabeta snapped.

"I'm just making a point! Do you know him?"

"No, but he's obviously someone of importance."

Gilbert snorted. "He's probably just the nephew of the club owner of something like that."

Elizabeta opened her mouth to reply but was silenced as the applause faded away and the first notes drifted up from the piano.

It didn't take her long to realize that this was no ordinary pianist—nephew of the owner or not. Even Gilbert stopped his snide comments.

The first word that came to mind was "beautiful" but Elizabeta quickly decided that that was not appropriate at all. The music was not beautiful or soothing, it was _real._ This was no musician playing for fee or simple entertainment. This was a man playing because it was his life. Elizabeta did not consider herself an expert of music, but the emotion was there, in every note, in every chord—the accents were like a knife to her heart as the haunting melody drew out all the pain and sadness she had tried so hard to keep inside.

This man knew suffering and despair. It was entwined tightly within the music and its ripple effect on the audience was a deep reflection of one's own life. Elizabeta thought of the endless days where she sat shivering in front of the cold fireplace, wondering if she was doomed to that lonely existence. Would the war ever end? Would her boys come home safe? Would there be time for peace and happiness? A time for love? During those times her thoughts were engulfed in a void of darkness where no light could shine.

To her right, Ludwig stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched tightly and his face shockingly pale. She could not begin to imagine the horrors that he had seen. He never spoke of them but she heard the screams at night from the nightmares and sometimes when he didn't know that she was watching his eyes would go dark and distant as if he was looking at something that no one else could see except him and it was the most terrifying thing in the world.

To her left, Gilbert cried freely, although Elizabeta didn't know if he was aware that he did. If Ludwig hid his pain with his silence, then Gilbert hid his with his loudness. In the end, the three of them were all victims of the cruelest of fates, each cursed to suffer on their own because of stubborn pride. However, for that moment, as the music played, the carefully constructed facades fell away, revealing the dark secrets within.

But when it ended and the lights came back up, the masks were back in place and Gilbert's eyes were only red.

"What was that?" He asked, his voice heavy with emotion.

"Truth." Elizabeta said softly and no one spoke because they all knew that she was right.

* * *

"Hurry up, Elizabeta. They're closing up and I want to see if any of the bars are still open."

"You have to be joking." Ludwig said as he returned with their coats. Gilbert snatched his and swung it over his shoulder. After another hour of dancing, he was still too warm to put it back on.

"Does this look like the face of a jokester, West?"

"You two go ahead. I can meet you at home." Elizabeta cut in before Ludwig could respond. "I want to talk to the pianist."

"Why would you want to do that? He bored us all to death with that terrible music and he looks like something crawled up his—" Gilbert was silenced by a swift backhand to the head. He fell to his knees, wailing in pain as Ludwig turned to Elizabeta.

"We'll wait here." He said.

"Are you sure? I don't want to stop you two from having a good time." From his spot on the floor, Gilbert whimpered. They both ignored him.

"It's no problem. We'll wait."

"It should only take a few minutes. I'll be right back." Elizabeta called over her shoulder. As she stepped into the now silent dance hall, she was surprised to see that it was not deserted as she had originally thought. And not as silent either.

The piano had not been moved from its spot and the pianist sat behind it, his fingers moving gracefully across the keys as he played a soft melody that was nothing like the heartbreaking piece from before. She must have made some sort of noise because he suddenly stopped and fixed her with an icy glare.

"The dance hall is closed for tonight." His voice was just as cold.

Elizabeta tried not to let this deter her as she stepped forward. On closer inspection she saw that he was very handsome, despite the angry look on his face. His eyes were the most unusual color and she didn't realize she was staring until he spoke again, his voice even angrier.

"I said we're closed."

Elizabeta blushed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude, but I had to tell you that that song you played tonight was the most amazing thing I've ever heard. Actually, amazing doesn't even do it justice. It was…life changing."

Instead of looking pleased or even humbled by her praise, the pianist's eyes narrowed and he turned back to the piano to gather together the sheets of music.

"Whatever was promised to you for performing this little act must have been very nice. I've never met such an enthusiastic liar."

Elizabeta felt her jaw drop. "E-Excuse me?" It almost felt as if she had been slapped.

The pianist continued to pack up his music. "I don't know what your intentions are but I suggest you leave now. I'm not in the mood to play any little games tonight."

"Now you look here," Elizabeta said angrily. The pianist paused his movements and looked at her and once again she was taken aback by the intensity of the anger in his eyes. "I don't know what exactly you think I came here to do, but whatever it is, you are obviously mistaken. I only came back here to give you my gratitude and appreciation."

"And so you have. Are you done yet?"

Elizabeta felt another spike in her anger. "No, I am not because this is honestly not the kind of response I expected."

The man almost looked amused. "What did you expect? Me to grovel at your feet like a dog who has just received a bone from his owner? I do not need your appreciation, Miss. Save your breath and leave."

Elizabeta exploded. "Just who do you think you are? How dare you be so rude and insulting?"

The pianist frowned. "I'm rude? You are the one who is screaming at a man who you supposedly came to compliment."

Despite herself, she lowered her voice and continued, "What is wrong with you? How can you act so cruelly to someone who only came to pay their respects? Is this how you are with everyone?"

Again, the pianist almost looked amused as his mouth twisted into a half smile that was more like a sneer. "There are some people who find humor in making sport of a cripple. They come here to pay their "respects", which are in fact, not very respectful at all."

Elizabeta felt all her anger suddenly dissipate. "I-I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. We have just met." He slid the sheets of music into a worn folder and made a motion to slide the cover over the piano keys.

"Please don't" Elizabeta said. Surprised by her request, the pianist paused. "Please believe that I didn't come here to insult or humiliate you. I came because…I understand the song. And I was hoping you would play it again."

There was a long silence before the pianist turned to her, the anger in his face now replaced by faint curiosity. "Is that so?" He didn't ask what she thought the song meant. Maybe because he didn't care or perhaps because he already knew her answer. In the end it was just a question to be saved for another time and another place.

"If it's not too much trouble."

The sheets of music were pulled out from the folder, arraigned back in place and for the second time that night Elizabeta didn't feel the need to hide her pain. She had never felt so free in her life.

"If…if you would like. I can play for you again tomorrow night. Just for you." Elizabeta was surprised to see the faint pink color on his cheeks as the pianist packed up the music for a second time.

"You would do that?"

"Yes."

Elizabeta beamed. "Then I will definitely be here. Thank you so much Mr. Edelstein."

"Please, just Roderich is fine."

"Roderich." It sounded…nice as she said it.

"And you have not told me your name."

"Elizabeta. Elizabeta Hédeváry. Thank you. For everything."

"So I will see you tomorrow?"

"I will be here."

And as the introduction and first movement came to a close, the two parties couldn't help but wonder how the next one would play out.

* * *

*The Golden Foot

**A/N: **So what's the verdict? Shall I continue? I'm enjoying writing the story.

Comments, critiques, anything except death threats are loved.

with love

-dancer


	2. The Times He Played For Her

**A/N: **Thanks to all those that reviewed! Sorry this update is so long overdue. I worked really hard to finish this chapter. Also I have officially given up on trying to make this a three-shot. I always try to estimate how many chapters my stories will take, but I usually end up going over. I'm thinking this one is going to end up being 5-7 chapters. Hopefully it doesn't go more than that, lol. Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Hetalia :(

* * *

_A Song for the Silent:_

_The Times He Played for Her  
_

"May I ask you a question?" Elizabeta asked during their second meeting. True to her word, she had come back. Ludwig and Gilbert had been surprised and suspicious in the way only they—so like the brothers she never had—could be when she told them of her intentions. They had not tried to stop her. They would not have been able to. Instead they let her go, promises of a late dinner said quickly over her should her as she ran down the crooked stairs.

Excitement had turned to anxiety as she had entered the dance hall. When she had arrived it had been closed for the evening, the last bits of colored paper fluttering out the door as she closed it behind her to join the snowflakes that had determined that now was the time to fall. The time when mothers put restless children to bed and war widows wept in overstuffed chairs by the fireplace.

With shaking hands, Elizabeta had unwrapped her scarf, her reddened fingertips clutching the comforting material as she had tried to decide what to do with it. There was no one to take her hat, take her coat, or the hand knit scarf so she had draped it over a chair and laid her coat and hat on top of it.

The doors to the main hall had been closed, the polished handles cold and forbidding beneath her grasp. With a deep breath, she had swung them open, the fear and doubt evaporating as her eyes had immediately focused on the grand piano that once again graced the middle of the room and Roderich sitting—waiting for her—behind it. When their eyes had met she had seen the relief in his eyes and had known that he had been afraid too.

"I believe you just have." Roderich answered as he sorted though the sheets of music in his hand.

Confused, Elizabeta only stared until she saw the faintest flicker of a smile.

"That's mean!" She grinned despite herself. "Well then, may I ask you three questions?"

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "Three?"

"Those were two questions and the next one, the actual one, is the third."

"I see. That's very clever of you. Yes, you may ask your third question."

The smile slid off Elizabeta's face and the atmosphere became so somber that Roderich knew what she was going to ask but was still somewhat surprised when she did.

"How did you get to be in that wheelchair?"

If it had been anyone else, Roderich would have told them to leave at once, but not this girl who he barely knew. When she had approached him the night before and told him that she understood the song, he had been shocked and suspicious. When she had promised to come back, he had barely allowed himself to hope. But now she sat next to him, looking at him with eyes filled with something that was so similar to that which was in his heart and he suddenly knew that there was nothing that he could ever deny her.

"How do you know I was not born like this?"

Elizabeta's brows furrowed as she sought to put her thoughts into words. "I'm not really sure. It's mostly just a feeling. And you carry yourself like someone who has known what it is like to walk."

"That's a…unique manner of reaching conclusions."

"Am I right?"

Roderich sighed softly. "Yes. Yes you are."

Elizabeta said nothing and Roderich knew she was waiting for him to start.

"I was a soldier once." He almost laughed when he saw the shocked look on her face. "What, you don't believe me?"

Elizabeta smiled sheepishly. "I do, it's just, you don't seem like the kind of person who would be a soldier."

"I think I'll take that comment in the best way possible."

"Please do."

Roderich's lips curved up in what was not quite a smile, but this soon fell away as he continued. "In truth, I had no wish to fight, but I came from a family weakened from hard economic times and I had no way of escaping the draft after the first declaration of war. My company was one of the first to leave…and one of the first to come back.

We had the misfortune of being led by a foolhardy young man who though he could single handedly end the war by Christmas—as if we hadn't heard things like that before."

"What happened?" Elizabeta asked after the pause became too long. She didn't know what prompted her to learn more about this man's past. He was more or less a stranger to her. She had never even asked Gilbert or Ludwig about the war. Mostly because she was afraid of what she would hear.

"We were passing through an area that we had been warned was a popular site for Allied ambushes but, according to our commander, was the fastest route possible. It was a trap. Of course." The last words were said so bitterly and Elizabeta could see now that Roderich's hands no longer lay flat on his lap but were curled tightly into fists, the knuckles a shocking white hue.

Roderich wanted to stop. He had never told anyone his story, but now that he had begun, the floodgates had opened and all his anger and misery rushed out.

"The landscape was flat and we were completely open to the attacks. In less than a minute, half of our company was dead. I and another soldier managed to find cover behind the ruins of a wall. There had been a city there once, I remember that." Roderich suddenly seemed to relax. His shoulders slumped and his hands fell open. But his eyes had gone dark and Elizabeta shuddered. She could not begin to imagine what he was seeing.

"I didn't know the other soldier very well. I kept mostly to myself. I knew he had a family; a wife, two kids. Twin girls he told me as we sat behind the wall. Some men might be upset about that but not him because they looked so much like their mother. He told me their names, their ages, their favorite colors, and their favorite bedtime stories. He told me everything."

Elizabeta wanted to him to stop. She wanted to cover her ears and block out that voice that had become dead and empty, but her hands lay still and her lips stayed shut and she let him continue. For his sake and for hers.

"When the grenade came over the wall, it all happened so fast. I felt myself being pushed away and then I heard the explosion. When I came to, everything was dark and there was blood everywhere. I couldn't move. I knew I was hurt, but I needed to find the soldier. I made myself crawl back towards the wall and there I found him."

Even when the conclusion is painfully obvious, children often find the need to ask "What did you see?" or "Was he alive?" Elizabeta was no fresh faced child and she knew that most stories had no happy ending, but she asked because she so wished that for once, there would be something to smile about at the end of the day.

"Was he alive?"

"No. He was dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Those girls were his life. And he gave that up to save me, someone who he didn't even know. Someone who never wanted to be there in first place. I was nobody. I had nothing to live for and he had everything."

"I don't believe that." Elizabeta said softly.

Roderich did not reply. Neither of them said anything until he spoke up minutes later. "Although he had saved my life, he was not able to save my legs. They were severely damaged in the explosion and I spent months in recovery. I was told I would never walk again."

"I'm sorry."

"You already said that."

"I'm sorry again."

"You don't need to be. I have accepted my fate and I think it is best this way."

"What was his name?"

Roderich shrugged. "I never knew. Our company was shamed because of the way we handled the situation. We had been given multiple warnings and our commander had heeded none of them. The few of us that were left were quickly discharged from the army and the files of those that were dead, sealed away."

"Where did you do next?"

"I began playing piano again. I had played before the war and it was all that was left from my life before."

"Your family."

"Dead."

"I'm—" Elizabeta stopped herself before she could finish. Roderich looked at her sadly and she knew at any moment she would lose the fight that she was fighting with the tears just behind her eyes.

"I…I don't know what to say." She said.

"You don't have to say anything. Just listen." And then the music started and Elizabeta finally let herself cry.

.

.

.

On the third day Roderich played for her, Elizabeta asked why he had decided to work at the dance hall.

"I don't work here. I'm only here because the owner heard me playing in another city."

Elizabeta was shocked. "You don't live here?" She knew it shouldn't have come off as such a surprise when he shook his head. She had lived here all her life and had never seen him once before now.

"Where are you from?"

"A small village about an hour away by train. Every few months I do some traveling to close by cities and ask if anyone requires a pianist. You would be surprised by how many people want only a little bit of music in their life."

Elizabeta felt something in herself grow cold. "When are you leaving?"

Roderich would not meet her eyes. "At the end of the week."

That was six days away. Gilbert and Ludwig would leave in five. In a week she would once more be by herself.

"Would you like me to play again?" Roderich asked when Elizabeta didn't speak.

She nodded and let herself be taken to a place where people don't leave, soldiers get to come home to their wives, and twin girls are read to sleep by their loving father.

.

.

.

"I want you to meet my friends." Elizabeta said on the fourth day.

"Why would you want that?"

"They are very _curious_ about you." In truth, it was Ludwig who was curious. Gilbert merely saw everything as a perfect opportunity to tease Elizabeta about her new boyfriend—which she adamantly denied _of course_.

"I'm not sure that would be a good idea. To be honest, I'm not good with most people." Roderich admitted. He immediately wanted to take back his words once he saw the crestfallen look on her face.

"But we get along so well."

"You're not most people."

"I feel very special."

"You _are_ special."

"Thank you. But are you sure you don't want to meet them?"

Roderich could not muster the will to say no as he felt himself enchanted by those bright green eyes. Suddenly, all objections were gone and he sighed.

"Fine. I will meet them."

She cheered and he winced at the noise, pretending to be annoyed. When she finally settled down Roderich realized that he had been trying to make her smile again.

And the results had been stunning.

But it was not meant to be. When Elizabeta returned to the apartment that evening she saw the letter on the table, saw the way Ludwig looked elsewhere except her eyes and saw how Gilbert's hands shook as he assured her that they would be back soon.

She did not wish to see, but she saw and once again, the darkness closed in.

.

.

.

Elizabeta read the clock in the sitting room, wondering if with sheer will and determination, she could make the second hand stop. Pause its journey around the clock face and keep it forever positioned between the 4 and the 5 where it currently lay.

Or at least where it had laid. It continued its rotation, not even pausing for a _second_.

The time read 2:27. It was 2:27 in the morning and Elizabeta sat silently in front of the clock. The small fire that she had recklessly lit had died an hour prior and she hadn't bothered to relight it. It would do nothing for her now.

Gilbert and Ludwig were sleeping in their respective rooms and Elizabeta was torn between pounding on their doors to wake them up or letting them continue to enjoy their dreams and suffer from their nightmares. In 4 hours they would be gone. They would go back to the noise and the smoke and the pain and the blood and the—

Elizabeta shivered as the clock chimed faintly to announce half the hour. Time waited for no one. Not even her.

.

.

.

She did not cry at the station. Even when Ludwig hugged her and Gilbert ruffled her hair in the way that she both hated and loved. She did not cry as the black engine pulled away, going farther and farther away until it was a dark speck on the horizon, like a bit of ash that had escaped the fireplace.

She did not cry until she stepped through the double doors of the dance hall and sat that the grand piano was gone from its spot.

"With the soldiers gone again, they plan to cut back their operating hours. They said my assistance was no longer needed." Roderich sniffed in manner that conveyed his extreme offense at this. "As if they could find a better pianist than I."

Elizabeta almost smiled, but the tears would not stop. Roderich handed her a clean handkerchief. They sat on the edge of the stage; she on the bottom step, him in his chair. They stared onto the empty dance floor and wondered what would become of them.

"I…I hope you don't think me forward, but I have very much enjoyed the time that we have spent together. It would be a great shame to lose such a friend. T-this being so, I was wondering if perhaps you would like to visit me sometime. Only if you wanted to, of course." Roderich pressed the white card into her hand and as she started at the neat script through blurred eyes, it seemed to Elizabeta that a light came on somewhere and although she could not locate its direction, she was happy that it was there.

"I would love to visit you." She said, brushing away the last of the tears.

No more followed.

.

.

.

Although she had been to the station many times, Elizabeta had never actually been on a train. She marveled at the steel and iron machine as her ticket was punched and when all the passengers around her slept as the train chugged forward through the snow, she stared out the window, gleefully taking in the white blur.

Her arrival was not met with cheers. There was no one there to greet her. With directions in hand, Elizabeta took the only road in the small village, confident that it would take her where she wanted to go.

The house was not grand. It did not span hundreds of acres but it possessed a distinct elegance that Elizabeta thought fitted Roderich perfectly as she approached the front door.

She hesitated only for half a second as a shrill and annoying voice in her head demanded why, by herself, she was visiting the home of a man she had only known for a week. The voice had barely finished its sentence before she dismissed it and knocked on the door.

Roderich had informed her that he employed live-in helpers but Elizabeta was not prepared for the scowling boy that opened the door. Even with such an unpleasant facial expression, he was very pretty with lovely dark hair that sported—in her opinion—the most adorable middle curl.

"Yeah, what can I do for yo…" The boy started brazenly before he fully took in Elizabeta. The scowl suddenly disappeared, replace by a flirtatious smile as the boy leaned forward to take her hand.

"Well hello there lovely lady. If I had known I was going to be seeing such a beautiful face when I opened the door I would have worn my best shirt."

Completely taken aback, Elizabeta could only stare as the boy continued. "Unfortunately you have caught me at a rather bad time so perhaps you can tell me where I can fin—"

"Hey hey Lovino, who's at the door~?" For a second, Elizabeta thought she was seeing double as a second boy appeared at the door, almost identical to the one that still held her hand, but with a light shade of hair and side curl.

"You idiot! Can't you see I'm in the middle of something?" Elizabeta's hand was forgotten as the one called Lovino whirled around, his curl bobbing angrily as he snapped at the second boy who suddenly seemed to take notice of her presence.

"Oh hello there pretty lady," he said moving towards her to take her discarded hand, "My name is Feliciano and I would very much like to take you out tonig—"

"YOU ASSHOLE."

"Brother, no need to yell~"

"SHE WAS MINE."

"Ve~I can't even introduce myself?"

"GET IN THE HOUSE NOW BEFORE—"

"What's with all the noise? You guys are going to get the police called on us again." Despite the scolding nature of the comment, the man that stepped out of the house was smiling and his grin widened when he noticed Elizabeta standing in front of the house.

"Well hi there, I'm—"

"NO ONE CARES."

"Lovino, you really shouldn't yell. You're going to upset the neighbors."

"I DON'T CARE. I WAS HERE FIRST. GET THE FUCK BACK IN THE HOUSE."

"Ve~ Lovino, you shouldn't use such a word in front of a lady."

"YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK ALL OF YOU. I'M GOING BACK INSIDE."

"I think you should make sure he doesn't go break anything again Feliciano…"

Feliciano nodded and turned to Elizabeta, giving a small curtsey that caused her to notice for the first time that he was wearing a dress.

"I'm sorry if my brother upset you Miss." He said before hurrying back into the house.

Stunned beyond words, Elizabeta could only blink as the remaining man gave her a sheepish grin.

"I give you my apologies as well. I hope you haven't been too startled. My name is Antonio, by the way. How can I help you?"

Remembering that she was actually there to see someone, Elizabeta finally closed her mouth and fished out the paper containing Roderich's address from her pocket.

"Well I'm not sure if I'm at the right place anymore." She said as she tried to smooth out the wrinkled note. "I'm looking for Roderich Edelstein."

Antonio's grin brightened. "You must be Elizabeta then. He said you would be arriving. Please come inside."

Relieved, but still slightly shocked, Elizabeta followed Antonio inside.

"Is Roderich home now?" She asked as they walked through the brightly lit hallway.

"Yes, he's in the music room. It's the first room on the left." Antonio pointed down a side hallway. Now, Elizabeta could hear the first notes of a song that she did not know.

"He'll be very happy to see you. If you need anything, just call." Flashing her another wide grin, Antonio turned back down the hallway and Elizabeta was left to follow the noise.

When she stepped into the music room, she tried to make as little noise as possible, but somehow Roderich heard her.

"Feliciano, I told you that there would be no pasta served tonight." He said without turning around.

"I'm sorry, but I didn't come here for pasta." She said. She giggled when he whirled around, his face a mixture of surprise and something that could almost be described as elation.

"Hello." He said after the shock had seemed to have worn off.

"Hello." She said back. "Please don't mind me. Continue."

It was the fifth day Roderich played for her but Elizabeta thought as she stood there, that it felt like the first.

* * *

**A/N: **So let me know what you think. I'm always a bit worried when it comes to keeping everyone in character. I hope no one was butchered XD The next chapter will reveal a little more about Roderich and his "condition".

-with love

dancer


	3. Secrets & Lies

**A/N: **So I've had this chapter done for two days but have just not posted it for various reasons that may or may not involve the 2010 Hetalia "Bloodbath". Yeah, I suck like that.

Anyway, I struggled a bit with this chapter because I could not for the love of God find any information regarding immigration laws in Nazi Germany. I can imagine that this kinda of search would be difficult but I was seriously clicking on dead links for like an hour. In the end I put together the very little info I could find with my own random ideas and the I'm not quite sure of the quality of the outcome. So bear with me people. I tried the best i could :'( None of you know what I'm talking about right now...oh well. Enjoy!

Oh yes, and a big thanks to everyone reading this story, whether you are reviewing, favoriting, putting it on your alerts, or just lurking. I love you~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

_A Song For the Silent_

_Secrets & Lies  
_

Whenever Roderich finished playing, Elizabeta always felt strangely conflicted. When the music ended, so did the illusion and all the realities of life came rushing back at her. But when the music ended, there was Roderich, turning around to give her a small smile.

"Did you like it?" He asked.

She returned the smile. "Yes. Is it new?"

Roderich frowned slightly. "It's something I've been working on for quite some time. It's not finished and I'm not sure how to end it."

"You're saying you wrote that? You never mentioned that you're a composer! That's amazing!"

Roderich blushed, embarrassed by her praise. "Would you like to see it?"

"I don't really know anything about music." Elizabeta admitted as she joined him at the piano. As she stared at the piece, all she saw were black notes scattered haphazardly across the page and she wondered how something so wild looking could create such a beautiful sound.

"What are these?" She asked, pointing to a group of three notes.

"A triplet."

"And this?"

"A staccato."

"Why do some notes have little dots over them and some not?"

"The notes with the dots over them are to be played staccato, which means separate or detached." Roderich saw the growing curiosity in Elizabeta's face and for some reason, he found this both amusing and attractive.

"There is about an hour until lunch. If you would like, I can teach you a few things about music."

Elizabeta beamed. "Really? That would be wonderful!"

"You may take one of those chairs and bring it up to the piano." Roderich said. "We'll start with the basics."

"Which are?" Elizabeta asked as she set the chair down, excited to begin.

"Music theory."

* * *

It wasn't until Feliciano knocked on the door that Roderich realized that they had missed lunch. He had not expected to get so absorbed in teaching, but Elizabeta was an eager student and he was happy to see her smile. She learned fast, having already memorized which notes were where on the piano and had been practicing a simple scale exercise when the door creaked open.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Edelstein." Feliciano said. "Antonio was wondering if you would still like lunch." In truth, Antonio had sent Lovino to deliver the message, but the older brother had refused, having been scolded one too many times for barging unannounced into the music room. It didn't help that he never knocked.

"I'm so sorry." Elizabeta said. "I didn't mean to take all of your time."

"Nonsense." Roderich replied. "This was more important. Feliciano, you can tell Antonio that we will take lunch now."

"Yes sir."

"Um, if you don't mind me asking," Elizabeta whispered after the door was closed, "Why is he wearing a dress?" It was out of sheer curiosity that she asked. She was barely acquainted with the boy but she already found him charming and adorable.

Roderich winced. "It's…a complicated story. I can tell you over lunch if you would like."

There was another knock on the door and Feliciano poked his head through the opening. "Mr. Edelstein? Everything's ready."

"Thank you, Feliciano. We'll be right there."

"Can you tell me about the rest of them?" Elizabeta asked as she followed Roderich out of the music room. "When you said you employed helpers, I was honestly expecting people less…" She trailed off, not quite sure how to finish.

"Eccentric?"

"I guess that's one word you could use. I guess I just imagined black suited butlers and maids with doilies in their hair."

Roderich smiled at the image. "Well then I'm sorry to disappoint you. I'm afraid finery such as that it a bit out of my budget."

"No, please, that's not what I meant. I know I've just meet them, but I like them already. I'm just curious as to how they came to work for you."

They had reached the small dining room, which Elizabeta was pleased to see was as simple, but elegant, as the rest of the house. The table had been set and their lunch was already laid out.

From the kitchen came the man from before, Antonio, the same cheerful grin on his face.

"You should have told me that you were going to have a late lunch. I had to reheat almost everything."

Roderich wheeled himself over to the head of the table, taking the only spot without a chair. "I was teaching Miss. Hédeváry about music."

Antonio laughed lightly as he moved to pull out Elizabeta's chair. "I hope you didn't bore her."

"Thank you." Elizabeta said as she sat down, unused to such chivalrous acts. "And no, it was very interesting. I've never played any sort of musical instrument before and now I would very much like to keep learning."

Roderich smiled. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Antonio. And while you're here, perhaps you can help answer some of Miss. Hédeváry's questions. She was, uh, quite curious about Feliciano."

"I just wanted to know why he was wearing a dress." Elizabeta said. "Not that there's anything wrong with it!"

Antonio laughed again. "Are you sure you don't want to answer this one, Roderich?"

Surprised by the casual manner of address, Elizabeta was even more surprised that Roderich merely shook his head. The relationship between the two men obviously went deeper than just employer and employee.

"No, I think it would be best if you did."

Antonio looked thoughtful for a second. "In that case I suppose I would have to start from the beginning."

"Can you?" Elizabeta asked brightly. "I was just asking Roderich if he could tell me about how you came to work for him."

"It's really not that interesting of a story." Roderich muttered, his cheeks growing slightly red.

"Oh come on, I think it's a great story." Antonio said, oblivious to how uncomfortable Roderich had suddenly become. "So it goes like this: A few years ago I moved to Italy after being hired by a wealthy family to protect their two sons. The family was notorious for being involved in the criminal underground—although nothing was ever proven—and they were worried about the safety of their children."

"So those two were, Feliciano and…" Elizabeta searched her memory for the name of the second twin. "Lovino? You were their bodyguard?"

Antonio nodded. "I guess you could call me that. Anyway, after the war broke out, all the members of the family went into hiding. I was instructed to take Feliciano and Lovino out of the country to keep them from being drafted in the army. At the time, I didn't know where to go so I just bought tickets for the first train out of the city. We ended up in a small city a few miles north of here and it was then that I realized that to stay in the country, I would need to start looking for a job. One of the last places I checked was this music hall but when I got there they told me that they currently weren't hiring. I guess I should count myself lucky because Roderich was playing there that night and he overheard about my problem. He caught me before I left and asked if I had any experience with domestic work. I said yes because I had spent the last three years practically babysitting a pair of twins and he said he was looking for someone to look after his house. Even when I explained the extent of my situation, he still agreed to employee not just me, but Feliciano and Lovino as well." Antonio turned to Roderich.

"I'm actually surprised you hired me so quickly." He said. "I must have come off as pretty cool."

"Not really." Roderich said matter-of-factly. "At the time, I was just beginning to travel between cities and was in desperate need of a housekeeper. You just happened to be the first person I encountered who needed a job just as desperately."

Antonio seemed to deflate a little at this. "I see…"

Elizabeta felt herself deflate as well. "Is that it?" She had been expecting a more dramatic encounter.

"No."

"Yes."

She almost giggled as both men answered in unison.

"Perhaps you should just answer the original question, Antonio. About Feliciano." Roderich said, his cheeks growing redder.

"But we're just getting to the good part!" Antonio said.

"I'm sure Elizabeta doesn't want to hear the rest and I believe lunch is getting cold again."

"But I do." Elizabeta protested, feeling almost guilty as Roderich sent her a pleading look over Antonio's shoulder. "Please go on."

Ignorant of the exchange between the two, Antonio continued, "In order to keep us from being drafted we had to change our genders on the official paperwork. Because this is such a small town, it was relatively easy to do and no one asked any questions. Our main problem was my work permit. Feliciano's and Lovino's were filed on time, but mine was taking longer than usual and I had a limited amount of time left before I would have had to leave the country. We didn't know how to speed up the process until Roderich suggested—"

"I did not suggest anything." Roderich interrupted. "It was your idea."

"Really? But I thought—"

"No."

"What happened? What did he suggest?" Elizabeta asked impatiently.

"It really isn't important—"

"That we get married." Antonio finished with a smile.

There was a long pause as Elizabeta stared and Roderich only hid his face in his hands.

When she finally found her voice, all she could say was, "…and did you?"

"Yes we did." Antonio said like it was the most casual thing in the world.

"B-but how?"

"Like I said before, this is a small town and people tend to watch out for each other. It wasn't hard to find a willing priest, especially when we explained our situation."

Elizabeta looked between the two men, still trying to process this information. "So you two are…married?"

Roderich nodded behind his hands.

"Just call me Isabel Fernandez Carriedo-Edelstein." Antonio said grinning. "And it did work. Within a week of submitting our marriage documents my permit arrived."

"So you're still married?" Elizabeta asked.

"Despite how often Roderich tries to deny it, yes, we are still married."

"It's not how it seems." Roderich had finally uncovered his face. "The marriage only exists on paper, not in practice."

Antonio pretended to look hurt. "Oh Roderich, I don't understand why you always push me away like this."

"Will you be quiet?" Roderich turned to Elizabeta. "Please understand that I only did it to keep them from being deported. I didn't have any other options. But if this disturbs you—"

"No!" Elizabeta spoke with such force that both men were visibly startled. "I think that was wonderful of you! How many people would put themselves at such a risk to help another person out? If you had been found out, you could have been thrown in jail, or worse. And," She blushed, "And I think you two make a lovely pair."

Roderich groaned but Antonio looked elated. "Really?" He asked.

Elizabeta nodded. She felt her cheeks grow hotter and nervously wrung her hands together as she contemplated asking the next question on her mind. Just the thought of it sent her heart racing and spurred strange feeling within her, especially within the lower regions of her body.

Roderich saw how she was fidgeting and suddenly, he knew what she wanted to ask, causing him to almost choke on his drink. By the time he stopped coughing his face was an even deeper shade of red.

"No." He gasped out. "No."

Antonio was completely at a loss. "Did I miss something?"

Elizabeta giggled nervously. "It's not important. Now, you haven't answered my original question. Why does Feliciano wear a dress?"

"Oh yes, well that's actually Roderich's fault."

"Do not blame me for your mistakes!"

Antonio ignored the protest. "You see, before I brought Feliciano and Lovino here, I had shown Roderich a photo of them and even though I clearly remember referring to Feliciano as 'he', Roderich thought in the picture he looked more like a 'she'. So when he put in an order for their work clothes, he ordered two dresses. We were lucky that Feliciano doesn't really mind them at all, even now."

"It's your fault for giving me such an outdated picture!" Roderich snapped.

"But I told you a bunch of times that he was a boy…"

"I thought that perhaps you had confused yourself again. You do often get things mixed up."

"I had been working for their family for almost 3 years…"

"It's still your fault!"

Barely able to hold in her laughter, Elizabeta spoke up before things went too far. "You know, despite what you say, you two are more like a married couple than you know."

"Elizabeta, please don't encourage him." Roderich said, throwing a glare at Antonio who missed it.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so happy. I never expected to meet such interesting and amazing people in my life. Thank you for inviting me here."

Although he tried to fight it, in the end, Roderich couldn't help but smile with her. "It's no problem. I—" Antonio coughed, "_We_ are glad to have you here."

The peaceful moment was interrupted by a loud crash from across the hallway accompanied with a stream of curses that made Elizabeta start giggling again, Roderich scowl and Antonio sigh.

"Excuse me; I'll see what he's broken this time."

When Elizabeta was sure Antonio was out of hearing range, she turned to Roderich, a sly smile on her face.

"So the marriage was really never—"

"No! God no!"

* * *

"Are you sure you do not wish to stay for the night?" Roderich asked as he followed Elizabeta to the door. "We have an extra guest room. It even has a lock if you are concerned about staying in a house with four men."

Elizabeta shook her head. "No, that's not the problem at all. I just don't want to be away from home for long…in case I receive any news about Gilbert or Ludwig."

"I completely understand, but please, at least let Antonio walk you to the station. It's getting late and even in a town such as this, it is not safe for a young woman like yourself to be walking alone."

Despite Elizabeta's protests, Roderich called for Antonio who gladly agreed to accompany her to the station.

"Thank you for coming with me." Elizabeta said as they started down the path.

"It's no problem. Thank you for visiting him. I don't think I've seen him that happy in a long time."

"What is he usually like?"

"Uh," Antonio scratched his head. "Moodier I guess? And he spends most of his time in the music room. Also you're the first person besides the four of us that know about our, eh, 'relationship'. He trusts you, that's for sure."

"I don't know what I did to gain such trust."

"There's something special about you. Mhmm. Even I can see it. And according to Roderich, I don't notice a lot so I guess that makes you super special."

Elizabeta furrowed her brows. "But I don't understand why."

"You're a good person and believe it or not, good people are hard to come by in this world."

Still unsatisfied but deciding to leave the question alone for the meantime, Elizabeta moved onto a lighter subject. "So just how long do you two intend to stay married?"

Antonio grinned. "Why? Do you want to take my spot?"

"N-no!" Elizabeta said blushing. "I was just curious! Honest!"

Antonio laughed at her flustered state. "I was just kidding. To be honest, I don't know how long we'll stay like this. At first I thought it would end when the war did and I took Feliciano and Lovino back to Italy, but sometimes I don't know if this war is ever going to end."

Elizabeta looked up at the dark sky. "I know the feeling." She said softly.

When they arrived at the station the last train was just preparing to leave.

"I don't know why he didn't ask you this himself," Antonio said as he helped her up into the train carriage, "But Roderich was wondering if you would like to come back for another visit sometime."

"Tell him—" Elizabeta winced as the train whistle echoed loudly through the station. "Tell him I would love to."

* * *

A week later she found herself on the same path and knocking on the same wooden door. It was Lovino who answered it once again and when he saw her standing there he said with a smirk, "Oh, it's you" before letting her in.

And so her life once again settled into place.

* * *

The first signs of spring were just beginning to appear when Elizabeta first encountered the doctor. She had been helping Feliciano fold the laundry, despite Roderich's protests, when she heard the knock on the door.

She was surprised when Lovino stepped aside after answering it to let in a tall, pleasant looking man. He seemed somewhat surprised to see her as well.

"Hello there." He said as he took his hat off. "I don't believe we've met. Are you one of Mr. Edelstein's new helpers?"

Hardly embarrassed at being mistaken for an employee, Elizabeta only shook her head. "I'm just a friend. My name is Elizabeta Hédeváry, and who are you?"

"It's nice to meet you Miss. Hédeváry, I'm Dr. Haydn."

At that moment Antonio came around the corner with the last laundry basket in his hands. "Hey Lovino who—oh, Dr. Haydn, I didn't know you were coming today. Does Roderich know?"

"He should. I told him I when I would be back after my last visit."

Frowning slightly, Antonio put down the basket next to the others. It was rare to see him not sporting his wide smile and Elizabeta began to wonder more about this doctor and why he was there.

"Well then I'll let him know that you are here." Antonio said before disappearing down the hall.

"I can take your things doctor." Feliciano said. His voice lacked its usual enthusiasm although the other man didn't seem to notice.

"Thank you Feliciano." After answering the door, Lovino had slipped quietly out of the room and as Feliciano went to put away the doctor's hat and coat, Elizabeta realized they were the only two left in the room.

There was an awkward silence as neither knew exactly what to say to the other.

It was the doctor that spoke first. "If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been acquainted with Mr. Edelstein?"

"A little more than two months now." Elizabeta replied. "How long have you been treating him?"

"A little less than two years and I wouldn't use the word 'treating' exactly. I can't say I really do much."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, Antonio returned and announced that Roderich would see the doctor. His smile had returned, but there was an obvious tightness to it.

The doctor nodded at Elizabeta, picked up his work bag and followed Antonio down the hall. It was not until the sound of the door closing was heard did Feliciano and Lovino poke their heads back into the room.

"He's gone?" Lovino whispered. He sighed in relief and stepped back into the room when Elizabeta nodded.

"That bastard caught me completely by surprise. If I had known it was him at the door I would never have opened it."

"You shouldn't talk that way about Dr. Haydn. He's a good person." Feliciano said as they resumed folding the laundry.

"Is Roderich sick? Why is he here?" Elizabeta asked, now more than a little curious about this new stranger.

"No. Dr. Haydn comes to check on Mr. Edelstein's legs." Feliciano said.

"Oh." It was beginning to make a little sense now. She turned to Lovino. "But why don't you like him?"

"Because every time he comes by, this place becomes more depressing than a graveyard and Roderich is moodier than ever. He won't eat unless Antonio makes him and then spends all of his time—well more of his time than usual—playing that dumb piano of his. And he doesn't even play the happy stuff. He plays these really depressing songs that make me want to rip my hair out."

"But I don't understand, isn't the doctor here to help him?"

"Yes, but—" Feliciano was cut off as Lovino elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"You talk too much, idiot."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "Now I know there's something going on. Tell me."

"We're not supposed to talk about it." Feliciano said nervously.

"Well I'm going to find out one way or the other so you might as well tell me now."

The twins exchanged looks before turning back to Elizabeta.

"Promise you won't say anything to Mr. Edelstein?"

"Or that bastard Antonio?"

"I'll do my best, but I can't promise you anything." Elizabeta said. Understanding that this was most likely the best they were going to get from her, they agreed.

"Mr. Edelstein doesn't like Dr. Haydn because whenever he visits, he always tries to encourage him to walk." Feliciano said.

Elizabeta frowned. "But Roderich told me he could never walk again."

Lovino shook his head. "That was what the first doctors told him but when Dr. Hadyn came a few years ago he said that with proper rehabilitation and therapy Roderich could learn to walk again."

"Then why doesn't he?" Elizabeta didn't know if she was upset or angry that Roderich had lied to her, but she couldn't deny the small quiver of excitement at this new information.

Lovino shrugged. "None of us really know. I don't think even Antonio knows."

"Mr. Edelstein doesn't like talking about it either." Feliciano said. "Antonio tried to bring it up once during dinner and he got really mad." He shivered at the memory.

Despite what she had said earlier, Elizabeta now fully intended to talk to Antonio about the matter. In two months these people had become, besides Gilbert and Ludwig, the closest thing to good friends she had. If Roderich wouldn't talk to them about his problem, then she would make him talk to her.

Everyone jumped a little at the sound of a door slamming shut. From around the corner came the doctor followed by Antonio, who was not smiling anymore.

"I'll be back in three weeks." The doctor said, taking his hat and coat from Feliciano, who had rushed to retrieve them as soon as they had heard the door.

"So soon?" Antonio asked.

"It will be good for him." The doctor said. "Do your best to encourage him when I'm not here."

"I do." It was the first time Elizabeta had heard anger in Antonio's voice, even though it was very subtle. "But I'm not going to push him to do something he doesn't want to."

"I will say no more. Have a good day Antonio." The doctor turned to Elizabeta. "It was nice meeting you Miss. Hédeváry." Then he left the house, Lovino slamming the door after him.

"Thank fucking God." He muttered. "So how long are we going to put up with Roderich's bad mood this time?"

Antonio ignored him and walked over to Elizabeta. "Can we talk?"

She nodded and handed the clothes she was folding to Feliciano before following Antonio into the dining room.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Antonio fidgeted nervously before answering. "Please don't take this the wrong way and I'm very sorry for having to do this, but Roderich won't be able to see you anymore today and thinks it would probably be best if you went home."

Elizabeta had never been slapped, but Antonio's words were like a vicious sting on her cheeks. Seeing her shock, he quickly continued.

"If I had known that Dr. Haydn was going to be here today I would have told you not to come at all. This is for the best. In a week or so Roderich should be back to his usual self, but for now, you really don't want to see him."

Elizabeta struggled to find the words, but her anger was making it difficult to put together a coherent sentence that wouldn't involve screaming.

"If you would like, I can even walk you to the station."

She almost said no but changed her mind at the last second. "Y-yes please. If that wouldn't be too much trouble." She said, barely keeping her voice at talking volume.

"I'll get your things." Antonio said. "I'm sorry."

When he came back with her coat she put it on as if she was in a trance. Her mind was a mess of emotions, anger the most prominent. She barely heard when Feliciano and Lovino said goodbye and couldn't remember if she said anything in return.

She and Antonio walked in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Antonio," Elizabeta said softly once they had reached the station and she had calmed down somewhat, "I'm going to ask you something and I need you to tell me the truth."

They were the only two people in the small station and her words sounded hollow and empty in her ears.

"You can ask me anything."

"Do you know why Roderich won't learn to walk?"

Antonio didn't bother asking her how she knew this information but simply answered, "No."

"Tell me the truth!"

Antonio gave her a sad smile. "That is the truth. Believe me, I've asked him many times, but he won't tell me."

"Why?" Elizabeta yelled in frustration.

"I don't know and neither does Dr. Haydn. He thinks it may have something to do with traumatic after effects from the car accident."

Elizabeta frowned. "What car accident?"

It was Antonio's turn to be surprised. "He didn't tell you? That's how he became crippled."

And suddenly, like a flash of lightning, Elizabeta knew what Roderich had done.

He had lied.

Not to her, but to Antonio, to the doctor, and to Feliciano and Romano. What he had told her about the soldier had been the truth. It _had_ to be the truth. There had been too much emotion, too much pain in his voice. He had shown his heart to a complete stranger and kept those close to him in the dark.

All her anger dissipated and all that was left was one burning question: _Why?_

Antonio saw how her face changed and realized that she knew something he didn't. The thought should have hurt, and it did a little, but he ignored those feelings and put his hands on her shoulders, locking their gazes.

"There's nothing I can do for Roderich now, but there is something you can do. Be patient with him, Elizabeta. And be good to him."

She nodded and Antonio's smile grew a little brighter. "I'll be back next week." She said.

"Make it two, just to be safe."

Elizabeta sighed. "Fine. Two weeks."

"I'll take care of him until then."

"I know you will."

* * *

The first thing Elizabeta did when she got back to her apartment was run to her room.

"It has to be here somewhere." She muttered. She tore through her closet until she finally located the small box that she kept hidden in the back.

Within the box were old pictures, letters, and a booklet full of addresses and numbers. Elizabeta grabbed the small book and flipped quickly through the worn pages for the number that she wanted. When she found it she quickly repeated it aloud until it she had it memorized and then replaced the book in the box and put the whole thing back into the closet.

The only public phone in the town was in the local diner and most of the time it was occupied. Elizabeta counted herself lucky when she got there and found that the small booth was empty.

She hesitated before dialing the number, wondering if this was the right thing to do. She shook her head, getting rid of any doubts and spun the phone dial.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Roderich asked. He did not like surprises but it had been two weeks since he had seen Elizabeta and he knew from Antonio that she had been upset when he had asked her to leave following Dr. Haydn's visit. Agreeing to accompany her on this trip was his way of apologizing for his rude behavior.

Elizabeta smiled a secret smile. "I told you. I want you to meet a friend of mine."

"And they couldn't have come to my house?" Roderich did not like riding trains. He only endured it when he had to travel between cities to play.

"She's a very busy woman. You'll understand when you meet her."

Elizabeta had almost asked Antonio to come along but had decided at the last second that this was something she would have to do herself.

When they reached their destination, Elizabeta waited patiently while Roderich was helped from the train.

"So just how far does this mysterious woman live?"

"Not very far, but if you like, I can…"

"No. It's fine." Deciding not to press her luck, Elizabeta walked slowly at Roderich's side and was only allowed to help him when one of the wheels of his chair was caught in a sidewalk crack.

"This is the place?" Roderich asked wearily when Elizabeta turned onto the path leading to a small, but sturdy looking brick building. There was a small sign attached to the door, but the script was unreadable. Luckily, the door was ground level.

"Yes." Elizabeta said simply as she held open the door for him.

"Are you going to tell me why you're we're here now?" They both looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. Into the room stepped a tall woman with long, light blond hair and dark blue eyes. She had a stern, unsmiling face, although her eyes lit up slightly when she saw Elizabeta.

"I'm glad you were able to make it, Elizabeta." Roderich raised an eyebrow at the thick accent. This woman was clearly not from the area.

"Roderich, I want you to meet Natalya Arlovskaya. She's a ballet teacher here and she's going to teach you how to walk."

Roderich stared at both women. Honestly, what could he say to that?

* * *

**A/N: **Why yes, that is Belarus that's going to be teaching Austria to walk. No, I don't know what I'm smoking...

Also, a little note for anyone who does not follow the manga. Spain and Austria were actually married in canon, creating the House of Habsburg. So them being together isn't as crazy as it sounds (I actually like the pairing myself)

Anyway stay tuned!

-with love

dancer


	4. Taking One Step At A Time

**A/N:** I feel like a such boss for getting this done so fast /does a victory fist pump

I'm estimating about 2 or 3 more chapters left, including an epilogue. From here, I have everything pretty much planned out so expect quicker updates unless school kills me first. Please enjoy~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

**

* * *

**_A Song for the Silent_

_Taking One Step at a Time  
_

"No." Both women stared at Roderich. "No." He repeated, louder this time..

Elizabeta's face fell. "But—"

"I said no!" He was almost shaking; in anger, in fear. It was all too much. It was too soon. Roderich wheeled himself around so that he was facing the door and so that he could not see the way they looked at him.

Elizabeta turned to Natalya. "Can you please give us a few minutes?" She asked. She knew that this wasn't going to be easy. Antonio had told her to expect a fight and she was prepared for one.

"I will be in the other room." Natalya said shortly before exiting the way she came.

"Roderich…" Elizabeta began.

"You had no right!" His back was still turned to her and she could see the slight trembles of his body.

"I know," She said softly, "But that's not going to stop me. I want to help you."

Roderich's laugh was dry and bitter and it pained her because this was the first time she had ever heard him laugh. It was not as she had expected.

"Help? Why would I want help? I don't need any help. I'm fine as I am."

"Why did you lie to me about not being able to walk?"

"I can't walk," Roderich said wryly, "can't you tell by the chair?"

"Why did you lie to Antonio?" No answer. "Do you know how much he cares for you? How much he worries about you? How much they all worry about you? And you lied to them…"

"It's my life, my problems. It's none of their concern." Roderich turned his head towards her and Elizabeta almost flinched at the icy glare. "And it's none of yours."

"It is now. It became my concern when you played for me. It became my concern when you invited me to your house. It became my concern when you gave me a reason to be happy again!" She didn't want to cry. She couldn't fight this battle with tears, so she struggled to keep them away. "For the past 3 years, I've been alone. Ludwig and Gilbert are all that I have and I don't even know if I'm ever going to see them again. It's been horrible. Having to wake up and realize that the apartment is empty and that it's been empty and that I have no idea if they will ever come back to it. The worst part is the guilt. I get to be here, safe, warm, fed, while they are God only knows where, suffering in some frozen pit! So yes, I know what it means to be alone and I know what it means to feel guilty." She stood behind Roderich and slowly, laid a hand on his shoulder. He flinched but did not move away.

"You don't have to feel guilty, Roderich."

"I'm not."

"You're only lying to yourself. Antonio doesn't know why you won't walk but I do. I know because you told me the truth." She moved so that she was in front of him and knelt down until they were eye level. He wouldn't look at her.

"Roderich." When he finally glanced up, she saw the sadness in his eyes and hoped that he saw it reflected in hers. "He would have wanted you to walk."

"You don't know that." He whispered. "I don't deserve—"

"Yes you do." She said forcefully. "He gave his life for you and you deserve anything you want. Living like this is an insult to him." She took his hands in her own. "Let me help you walk again."

"I don't know if I can."

"Bullshit." He raised an eyebrow at this. He had never heard her swear before. Elizabeta gave him a sly grin. "You can and you will."

"Why are you doing this?" Roderich asked.

"Because you've made me happy and now it's time I did the same for you."

Roderich sighed. "You're worse than Antonio. Both of you are horribly pushy sometimes. Don't you ever know when to give up?"

Elizabeta grinned widely. "Nope. Gilbert says I'm pigheaded."

"I would have to agree." Roderich sighed again. "I'm not going to make any promises to you. I was told by many doctors that I wouldn't be able to walk again. Dr. Haydn may say different, but I wouldn't put my faith in him."

"You'll never know until you try."

"And you think this woman will be able to help me? When Dr. Haydn suggested rehabilitation I don't think he meant learning ballet."

Elizabeta chuckled. "I don't think she's going to be teaching you ballet. I mean, I don't know what she has in mind, but I trust her."

"Who is she? That was most definitely not a German accent."

"She's from Russia. She and her brother and sister fled the country when the war started. They were trying to get to America but somehow they got separated. She ended up here a few years ago and opened this studio to raise money to find her siblings. She believes they're in America so that's where she aims to go."

"How did you two meet?"

"It was purely by accident. I come up here sometimes to shop when the stores back home don't have what I need. That day I wasn't looking where I was going are nearly knocked her over. At first glance she might appear somewhat…unfriendly—"

_That's putting it lightly, _Roderich thought.

"—but she really is a nice person and I guess we just clicked."

Roderich still wasn't convinced. "I worry about her qualifications."

"Apparently she was a member of one of Russia's most famous ballet companies. She has medals and certificates all over the studio. I'm confident in her ability."

"You're really not going to let me rest until I agree to this?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "Nope."

"And how much is all this going to cost?"

"Absolutely nothing. Natalya owes me a favor."

Roderich sighed once more. "Fine. Uh…" He looked down and she followed his gaze until she realized that she was still holding his hands. Blushing, she quickly stood back up.

"Um, I'll go let Natalya know that we're ready." She was so flustered that she bumped into the wall, mistaking it for the door. "Whoops! How silly of me." She said, laughing nervously.

"Please be careful." Roderich said. When she disappeared down the hall he sighed once more and leaned back in his chair. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. Not just because of Elizabeta, but because he was terrified. Terrified of what would happen if he left his chair.

* * *

Roderich hadn't known what to expect but he learned quickly just want Natalya had in store for him.

Ballet was graceful and poised one moment, but dramatic and passionate another. Most importantly, it was _very _difficult. By the end of the first day, he was sweating profusely and he hadn't even left his chair.

"This," Natalya patted the wooden bar that was in front of the mirror. "will be your tool for success. "You will learn balance. You will learn how to move with the fluidity of a dancer. Ballet is not for the weak. It is _very_ strong."

The first time Roderich stood, by himself, on his feet, he almost passed out from holding his breath. Years later he would still never be able to quite describe the feeling. It was like waking up from a 100 year sleep. A little confusing, a bit refreshing, but mostly, simply tiring. Elizabeta told him to stop apologizing after the 10th time she and Natalya had to catch him when he fell.

Elizabeta danced with them sometimes. Roderich guessed that she must have danced as a child. He already thought her beautiful but when she danced, she became almost ethereal.

"You dance very well." He told her after a month at the studio. She blushed. "It's just a hobby. I'm nothing compared to Natalya."

She was right of course. When Natalya danced she was like a lovely, terrible, perfect storm. But Elizabeta, if not as talented, was still amazing on her own.

"You are doing very well." Natalya said some weeks later. "Soon I will have you leave the bar."

"I do not actually have to dance, do I?" Roderich asked nervously. He was still unsteady on his feet, although he could feel himself growing stronger each day.

"But of course." Natalya's face was still as passive as ever when she said this but there was something…amused in her voice that caused Roderich to pale.

"Perhaps we should wait a little a longer to move on." Elizabeta said.

"No." Natalya said. "He is ready."

Roderich hoped very much that Antonio never decided to accompany them to the studio one day. He was sure that he would die from embarrassment if he was seen by anyone else. Natalya did not just teach him ballet, she taught him how to tango, how to waltz (Viennese Waltz of course). She taught him how to salsa, she taught him the Meringue, and then she taught him the Quickstep, which became his least favorite dance in the world.

Through dance, she taught him to walk again.

"She did that on purpose." Roderich said, wincing. Natalya had had him do the Quickstep twice, claiming the first time was 'sloppy'. "It was not sloppy."

"It was a little bit sloppy." Elizabeta teased. They stepped out of the dance studio into the afternoon sun. It was late summer and the sky was still a clear blue.

"Just how much longer do I have to put up with her?" Roderich asked as they made their way down the path. Sometimes, when he wasn't paying attention, Elizabeta would glance down at his feet. He had been walking for months now, but it was still something new and wonderful for her to see him on his own two legs. When he had taken his first steps, she had had to turn away so he wouldn't see her cry. Antonio had been less reserved in his emotion. The day Roderich had walked into the house, he had nearly knocked him over in excitement.

"Thank you." Antonio had whispered in her ear before she had left.

"It was my pleasure." She had whispered back.

Dr. Haydn had been barely able to believe it. "Ballet, you say?" He asked when he saw Roderich on his feet. "That's amazing. Perhaps I will have to recommend it to some of my patients."

Elizabeta had smiled softly and Roderich had only rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand why you two don't get along." Elizabeta said as they walked towards the train station. It was a quiet, hot afternoon. The only sound was the light tapping of Roderich's cane on the sidewalk. "You fight more than Gilbert and I…and that's saying something."

"Speaking of Gilbert," Roderich said, changing the subject, "have you heard anything from him or Ludwig yet?" He regretted this at once when he saw the way Elizabeta's face fell.

"No." She said. It had been over two months since the last letter and each day her worries grew. The country was not doing well in the war. Her happiness with Roderich was tainted by her fear that each day she opened the mailbox it would not be a letter she found, but a telegram instead. And no one wanted to receive a telegram.

"I think Antonio is trying something new for dinner tonight." Roderich said when Elizabeta had been quiet for too long.

"As long as there's pasta, I don't think Lovino will mind." She said, snapping out of her mood, happy for the quick change of topic.

Roderich frowned. "His complaints are completely uncalled for. He refuses to help make the meals but insists on making a fuss when they are not what he wants. It's quite irritating."

Elizabeta giggled. "Oh leave him alone. He's just a boy."

"That's always your excuse for him. You're much too lenient towards him and Feliciano."

"Well I'm sorry we all can't be grumpy aristocrats." She said teasingly.

"I am not a grumpy aristocrat," huffed Roderich.

She smiled because he very much was and she found it adorable. She didn't realize that she was staring until he turned to her and asked what was wrong.

"Sorry," she said blushing, "my mind was elsewhere." Her feelings had been erratic lately. Was she in love with Roderich? Or did she love him like she did Gilbert and Ludwig; like a brother? She had never been romantically in love, although she had seen people who were. Like Antonio.

Antonio was in love with Roderich.

It wasn't obvious and she would have never had noticed if Lovino hadn't told her a week earlier.

As usual, she had been helping with the chores. It was something she enjoyed even though she was a guest. That day they had been washing the windows. The weather outside had been hot and humid and they had been forced to roll up their sleeves and, for Lovino and Feliciano, roll up their pants. Antonio and Roderich had gone for a walk so it had just been the three of them at the house.

"This is so stupid. That bastard Antonio should be doing this." Lovino had said.

"Would you rather have gone on a walk with Roderich?" Elizabeta had asked. Lovino had shuddered.

"Hell no. Those daily walks are dumb."

"But they help Mr. Edelstein very much." Feliciano had piped up. "He seems much happier these days."

"And Antonio is just ecstatic." Lovino had muttered.

There was something about the way he had said it that had made Elizabeta ask, "What do you mean by that?"

"When Roderich's happy, Antonio is happy."

"So?"

"He cares a lot about how Roderich feels."

"I'm still not following."

Lovino had sighed. "He's crazy about him. Like really. Head over heels."

_Oh…_

"I would never have known."

"He's good at hiding it. But I've known him long enough to tell. It's kinda sad cause Roderich is so oblivious."

Elizabeta had scrubbed harder at the windows. There had been a particular spot that refused to go away. "Do you think he'll say anything?"

Lovino had shrugged. "I don't know. Probably not. Roderich spends so much time denying their marriage that I doubt he would want to have a 'real' one. Antonio is an idiot. There are a ton of other people he could have fallen in love with."

Elizabeta had given him a sly smile. "Such as?"

Lovino had turned bright red. "I-I don't know! And I don't care!" He had dropped his washcloth on the grass. "It's too hot! I'm done here." He had stomped back into the house, leaving Elizabeta to sort through her feelings.

If she was in love with Roderich, romantically, did that make Antonio her rival? She didn't like that at all. She considered Antonio a very good friend and did not want anything to taint their relationship.

But Antonio had known Roderich for much longer than she had. Roderich may have told her one of his secrets but Antonio probably knew so many more. And then there was the fact that legally, he was Roderich's wife…or husband. She was hardly any competition at all.

Outwardly, Roderich rarely showed any affection, and he had never been anything that could be described as 'romantic'. He treated her like a friend. A very good friend. And she was fine with that. Or at least she had been. Now she wasn't so sure.

Perhaps it was just a side effect of helping him learn to walk. Being involved in such a momentous event in someone's life was bound to result in strange feelings. In time it was possible that they would fade. Her heart clenched at the thought. She didn't want them to fade.

"Are you OK?"

"Huh?" She said, dumbly. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that they had reached the train station. Roderich was looking down at her with concern.

"You seem very distracted today."

"I'm sorry."

Roderich gave her a small smile and she felt her heart flip happily. "I'm sure Gilbert and Ludwig are fine. In fact, I'm sure that there will be a letter waiting for you when you arrive home."

"Yes!" She said with more force than she intended. "I believe that too."

"The train is running a bit late today. Would you like something to drink while we wait? It's quite warm today."

"Yes please. Thank you!" Elizabeta breathed deeply when Roderich walked away. She needed to calm down. Now was not the time for such relationships. Maybe after the war ended, if it ever did, but not now. She would be patient.

* * *

When they arrived back at Roderich's house, Antonio was busy in the kitchen and the twins were nowhere to be found. Elizabeta's stomach growled at the delicious smells that filled the house. She was always hungry after they finished at the studio.

"It sounds like he's making a feast." Roderich said in response to noise from the kitchen.

"I wonder where Feliciano and Lovino are." Elizabeta said.

"Disregarding their chores as usual." Roderich said, frowning. "I'll go ask Antonio."

"He sent them into town for groceries." He said when he returned. "He should know better than that. Now they will be gone for hours."

"Let them have a little fun. Come play for me."

"Elizabeta, I'm tired."

"Just one song. Please?" He was powerless against her when she looked at him like that with those playful green eyes.

"One song. Which one?"

"The one you played when we first met." Elizabeta said as they walked to the music room.

"Haven't I played that for you enough?"

"It's my favorite."

They never made it to the music room. A large booming noise suddenly echoed through the house. It was not the sound of Antonio dropping plates in the kitchen but the sound of a bomb exploding.

Elizabeta was on the floor before she was even sure what was happening. There was another explosion and the windows shattered.

"We need to get out of here." She flinched at Roderich's voice in her ear seconds, minutes, hours later. She had forgotten he was there. She had forgotten everything except the horrible noises. She looked over at him to find that he was pale and shaking.

_Of course,_ she thought, _he's been through this before. _

"We need to go somewhere safer. This room is too dangerous." He was right. They were in the parlor, surrounded by numerous stone busts and bookcases that could fall if another bomb hit.

She stood up slowly. Her head was spinning and she felt nauseous.

"Roderich! Elizabeta!" Antonio came running from the direction of the kitchen. He had a small cut on his forehead but besides that, was unharmed. "Are you both alright?"

"We're fine." Roderich said. "Just a little shaken up. What happened to you?"

"What?"

"You have a cut on your forehead." Elizabeta said.

"Really?" Antonio reached up to touch the cut. "I didn't notice. It must have happened when the frying pan fell on my head."

"You're such an idiot sometimes." Roderich said. "We need to move to a safer location in the house."

"What about Feliciano and Lovino?"

Just then the twins burst into the house. Neither was injured, although both were crying.

"We're going to die!" Lovino wailed. "They've left us and we're going to die!"

Antonio rushed over to him and tried to calm him down. "You're not going to die Lovino and who left us?"

Lovino hiccuped. "The gunners! Those fucking cowards ran away and now we're going to die!"

"Who are the gunners?" Elizabeta asked.

"This may be a small town but we are still susceptible to attack, as you see now, so we have a very informal self appointed militia. Our artillery is limited but one of the members was able to acquire, most likely through illegal means, a military antiaircraft gun. It is our major line of defense." Roderich said. "If what Lovino says is true, then we are unprotected."

"Feliciano, how many planes did you see out there?" Elizabeta asked.

Feliciano wiped away a tear. "T-two. But I couldn't be sure. I was trying to catch up with Lovino."

"Shut up!" Lovino yelled. "You were running 10x faster than I was!"

Ignoring the twins, Elizabeta turned to Roderich and Antonio. "Two planes will flatten this town. We have to do something."

They all fell to the floor as another bomb fell, closer this time, causing the walls of the house to shake fiercely.

"Do something?" Roderich said as they sat up. He had to yell over Feliciano and Lovino's screams. "What we need to do is get to safety."

"We can't leave the town unprotected. Someone has to get to that gun."

"When you say someone, who do you…" Roderich trailed off when he saw the look in Elizabeta's eyes. "No! Are you insane? It's suicide to go out there!"

"If I don't go, this town will be destroyed. I can't let that happen. I've spent these past years wishing I could fight alongside Gilbert and Ludwig and here's my chance to finally do something in this war."

"Roderich's right," Antonio said, "the gun is in the center of the town. Just getting there will be dangerous."

"And can you even fire a weapon such as that?" Roderich turned to the twins. "Will you two shut up!"

"To pass the time when Gilbert and Ludwig were gone, I read a lot of books about war and the army. There were many chapters about artillery." Elizabeta stood up. "If no one else is going to go, I will."

Roderich scrambled to his feet. It was painful to move so fast but he ignored it. "I won't let you."

Elizabeta gave him a sad smile. "You can't really stop me." Without another word she ran through the open door, which the twins in their distress had left wide open. She knew Roderich would never be able to catch her.

"Elizabeta!"

"I'll go after her!" Antonio started towards the door but Roderich grabbed his arm.

"No…I will." He said.

Antonio stared at him. "And you call me the idiot. You just spent the last few months learning how to walk again."

"I know that. Antonio there's something I need to tell you. I used to be a soldier and my life was saved when another soldier sacrificed himself for me. That's how I became crippled. It wasn't a car accident."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you needed to know. I've never fully recovered since that day and I'll tell you truth that right now all I want to do is run and hide, but I can't. I need to go after her."

"You don't have to prove yourself to anyone."

Roderich shook his head. "Yes I do. Myself. Watch Feliciano and Lovino. I'm going after her." He didn't bother to take his cane. It would be no help to him now.

"Roderich, wait! I—" Antonio was cut off as the sound of another explosion ripped through the house.

"I'll be back soon! I promise!" Before Antonio could say another word, Roderich was gone. He wanted to run after him but he didn't. He grabbed the twins, who were still crying on the floor, and ran to the safest room in the house, the music room.

* * *

Elizabeta fell to her knees as another bomb fell onto the small town. Now that she was outside she could feel the full impact of the explosion. In seconds she was covered with dust and debris. Everywhere she heard screaming and the sound of children crying. She did her best to block everything out and focus on her goal. Roderich had said the gun was at the center of the town and judging by her surroundings, she was halfway there. But before she could get to her feet she was thrown back by a bomb that landed only hundreds of meters away.

She had the wind completely knocked out of her and for a few seconds she blacked out. There was only pain and when she came to she realized that her hand had been cut by glass on the floor. The sight of so much blood startled her and she almost forgot her original goal. Then the sound of a child screaming reached her ears and she remembered. Quickly, she ripped a strip of linen from her dress and used it to bandage her hand. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, gripping the brick wall of the empty grocery store for support.

"One step at a time." She said herself. She flattened herself against the wall as another bomb fell. "One step at a time."

She had barely gone half a block when she thought she heard someone screaming her name, but that was impossible.

"Elizabeta!" Her heart nearly stopped when she turned and saw Roderich limping towards her.

"No…"

"Elizabeta!" He was getting closer and she saw now that he was covered in debris and somehow his jacket had been ripped.

"Why are you here?" She screamed. "Go home!"

He stopped in front of her. His face was pained and he was breathing heavily. "I can't let you do this by yourself."

She brushed away the tears that had begun to fall. "I can't believe you would do something so stupid. How could you leave Antonio and the twins?"

"Antonio will take care of Feliciano and Lovino. I trust him." They both fell to the ground at the sound of another explosion. They didn't have much time left.

"Where is the gun?" She yelled.

He took her hand. "This way!" He led her through the ruined streets of the town. Elizabeta even saw a body and nearly threw up at the sight. Roderich pulled her quickly along. She wondered how he could move so fast. His face was a mask of pure determination. She knew that soldiers often suffered from trauma following battles. When he had been home, Gilbert had screamed when she had accidentally dropped a pot on the floor. He had claimed that it had caught him by surprise but she had seen the fear in his eyes and saw the way his hands shook.

But Roderich could not be stopped. They only paused to briefly seek shelter when another bomb fell, but then, as soon as it was clear, he kept going.

The gun was located in an alcove of a small building. It had been undamaged and Elizabeta saw that it was still fully loaded.

"Do you know how to use this type?" Roderich asked. He was becoming more and more unsettled. She could feel his hand trembling in her own.

She glanced back at the gun. "I've read about it before. It's a 3.7 cm FlaK 43 antiaircraft cannon. We're lucky that it's automatic."

She positioned herself behind the gun as Roderich crawled deeper in the alcove, his whole body shaking.

It felt strange to finally be touching a weapon. She had dreamt of doing so for so long. Quickly she remembered what she had read about this particular gun. It was effective against planes flying at 4200 meters and lower but could reach a maximum range of over 6,000 meters. It was small, but powerful. She moved the gun until she found the first plane. She couldn't tell what country it was from but it was coming straight at her. Without another moment's hesitation, she fired. She heard Roderich scream behind her but all her attention was focus in front of her. She didn't know how many rounds she fired until the plane finally exploded in a burst of orange and red flames.

She let out a victory cry. She had done it!

Her celebration was cut short as a rain of bullets was directed at the alcove. She fell to the floor and covered her hands as the second plane flew by. As soon as it was gone, she was once more behind the cannon, swinging it around to find the plane.

"Come on, you bastard. Come on." She hissed. She missed the plane twice. She knew she was low on ammo so the third time she didn't miss. The plane exploded as it swooped back down, crashing into the book store across the street. Everything shook at the impact and from the close proximity Elizabeta could feel the fire and smell the gasoline from the engine. And then there was long silence.

She turned to Roderich to find him staring at her in amazement. She held out a hand. "Let's go home."

* * *

The house was still standing when they got there. The door had been ripped off its hinges and there was a large hole in one of the walls, but besides that, there was little outside damage. Inside was another story.

The bookcases had fallen, there was glass and dust everywhere, and Elizabeta had a hard time finding something that _wasn't_ broken.

Roderich's arm was slung across the back of her neck and she maneuvered the two of the around the mess.

"Antonio! Feliciano! Lovino!" She feared the worst until she heard the sound of footsteps.

Antonio burst into the room and launched himself at the both of them. The three of them collapsed to the floor in a heap. Roderich swore, Elizabeta laughed, and Antonio was grinning like an idiot.

"Never do that to me again." Antonio said.

"We promise." Elizabeta said.

Roderich groaned. "Now get off us."

Antonio helped them to their feet. "Where are the twins?" Elizabeta asked.

"They cried themselves to sleep." He said.

Roderich shook his head. "Those two…"

"How was she?" Antonio asked. "We could hear the guns from here."

Roderich turned to Elizabeta. She was bleeding from numerous cuts and her clothes were mostly likely permanently choked with dust but he thought that she was the most beautiful woman that he ever seen. "She was…she was amazing."

Elizabeta beamed.

* * *

For the first time, Elizabeta stayed the night. It was too dangerous for her to try and go home and it was doubtful that the trains would even be running. News of the bombing would have already spread, if the actually bombing had not been heard in neighboring towns.

Not wanting to be alone, she stayed in the music room with the twins, but she did not sleep. She laid on the floor listening to Lovino's soft snores and stared at the dark ceiling, seeing not it, but instead the fires from burning planes and charred bodies writhing in pain. She closed her eyes but the images were still there. They would always be there.

* * *

"Antonio," Roderich said softly. "I need to go back." They were seated in the ruined dining room in the only two undamaged chairs, smoking a cigarette that Antonio had found in the rubble. Roderich didn't smoke, but today seemed like the perfect day to start.

Antonio didn't need to ask where "back" was. "Somehow I knew you were going to say that." He passed the cigarette to Roderich.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. How are you going to tell Elizabeta?"

"I don't know." Roderich blew a cloud of smoke into the air. It hovered momentarily before dissolving into the air.

* * *

**A/N:** I loved writing this chapter because I love writing action sequences. Anyway, like I said at the top of the page, this is the beginning of the end. It's time to start wrapping this story up. Don't worry though, there are still a few more chapters left. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me thus far!

-with love

dancer


	5. The Telegram

**A/N:** This chapter was absolutely exhausting to write but somehow I got through it. After this there are only about 2 chapters left and an epilogue. Thanks for sticking with me. I love you all~

An extra note: For clarification purposes, most of this story takes place in Germany unless otherwise specified. The towns where both Roderich and Elizabeta live are in southern Germany. Think Munich area.

Enjoy the chapter~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

* * *

**

_A Song for the Silent_

_The Telegram  
_

Roderich resisted the urge to squirm beneath the sharp gaze of the recruiting officer. It didn't help that his legs were beginning to fall asleep. The thought almost made him smile. He had sat in his wheelchair for years and now just sitting for a few hours made him restless. The other source of his anxiety came from the fact that the only person who knew he was here was Antonio. He hadn't even told Feliciano or Lovino and he had certainly not told Elizabeta. He had spent weeks trying to come up with a way to tell her that he planned on going back to the army. How could he explain that it was something that he had to do? That he would never rest until he faced that which terrified him the most? She had helped him take his first steps, she had mended his broken body and now he had to use it finish what had started years ago. Antonio told him he was crazy. Perhaps he was, but he was here now and there no turning back.

The recruiting officer grunted and Roderich snapped back to attention.

"So it says here that you were officially discharged following the unfortunate deaths of all the members of your company except you and two other men. Is this correct?" The man did not sound very sincere as he said this, but Roderich ignored it and nodded.

"It also says that you were permanently crippled. You look fine to me. Explain."

Roderich coughed. He was more nervous than he had anticipated. "It's true that my legs suffered heavy damaged from a grenade explosion and I have spent the past four years, until recently, in a wheelchair."

"That's a long time in a wheelchair. How'd you learn how to walk again, boy?" Roderich winced at the address.

"I was taught, sir."

"By who?"

"Two women. One is a ballet teacher; the other is…a friend."

The officer leaned back in his chair. "So you're telling me that after four years incapacitated you were taught how to walk by two completely unqualified women?"

"Yes, sir."

The man shook his head. "Now that is a crazy story. It's almost as crazy as you wanting to come back to the army. I know a lot of men who would give up more than their legs to escape the front line. Why are you here? What are you trying to prove?"

"Nothing, sir. This war almost took away my legs and now that I have them back, I believe it only appropriate to finish the job that I started."

"Is that what you think?" The officer almost sounded amused. "To be honest I'm very reluctant to admit you back into the armed forces. Not only are you a former member of a disgraced unit, but how do I know that you won't suddenly have some leg attack and collapse in the middle of the field?"

"Concerning my former company, there's nothing I can say except that I had the misfortune of being under the command of a man who should have never been allowed to graduate from the academy. Concerning my legs, well sir, you may believe them unqualified, but the two women that helped me walk again are more qualified than any physician I have ever encountered. I don't know what will happen when I'm out there but I can assure you that my burdens will be my own and no soldier will have to suffer because of me."

The officer tapped his pen against the desk and for a second, Roderich thought that he would be dismissed. But then the man closed his file and stamped it. The words "Approved" shone in bright red ink on the top.

"I'll tell you the truth Edelstein, I think you're a fool, but I would get my ass kicked by my superiors if they found out that I rejected a perfectly good soldier. Still, don't make me regret this decision."

Roderich stood up. "You won't sir."

"You will report in 24 hours."

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Edelstein. Just don't fuck up."

* * *

Elizabeta was in a good mood. She had received letters from both Gilbert and Ludwig that morning and even though she had just visited Roderich three days earlier, she was too excited to wait to show them to him. Train tickets were not cheap and her money was almost gone, but she didn't care. It was worth it, these weekly visits. She didn't know what she would do once the money ran out but she preferred not to dwell too long on the thought.

"Maybe I'll get a job." She said to herself. It would help keep her mind off Gilbert and Ludwig, although it might keep her from visiting Roderich every week. She was still thinking about the future when the train pulled into the station. She was surprised to see a larger crowd than usual when she stepped onto the platform. It was a small station and usually there were only a handful of people at a time there.

Elizabeta looked closer at the crowd and saw that they were actually boys, soldiers, dressed in freshly iron uniforms and waiting to depart. She felt a tightening in her chest as she skimmed over their young faces. Some tried to hide their fear, others let it show openly, and then there were those who only stared blankly at something that she couldn't see.

There was one soldier in the crowd whose back was turned to her but when she saw him her heart skipped a beat and she felt her blood run cold. She knew that stance. She knew that he put more weight on his left leg because his right had a tendency to become sore. He had cut his hair but she knew him.

"Roderich." She moved without thinking, pushing her way through the people, the soldiers. The only thought in her mind was reaching him.

"Roderich." She was almost there. The blood was pounding in her ears and her vision was beginning to blur.

"Roderich!" He finally turned, his face a mixture of surprise and anguish when he saw her. She was only a few steps from him, she could have reached out and touched the lapels on his coat, when she lost her breath and her world turned black.

When she came to she was in his arms and she saw that his eyes were wet and this made her start crying. A crowd had gathered around them, but she could have cared less.

"How could you?" She whispered between sobs.

"Because I need to."

"And you were about to leave without saying goodbye?"

"I didn't know how. I'm not accustomed to these type of farewells."

"Please don't leave me. I can't be alone again."

"You won't be. You'll have Antonio and the twins."

"Don't go."

"I have to."

Roderich helped her into a sitting position and Elizabeta covered her face with her hands, unable to meet his eyes.

"Thank you all for you concern," She heard Roderich say to the crowd. "Now I ask that you please leave us."

When she uncovered her face it was just her, sitting on the filthy floor of the train station, and Roderich kneeling beside her.

"Why are you leaving me?" She said.

"I already told you. It's something I need to do."

"Bullshit. That's bullshit. You're throwing everything away! All the hard work we've done these past months!"

"No, it's because of what you and Natalya have done for me that I can do this."

"So it's my fault now?"

Roderich shook his head. "That's not what I mean. You met me when I was bitter and I was angry. I was broken. Thank you…for making me whole again."

"I still don't understand. Why are you going back?"

Roderich shrugged. "I'm not fully sure myself, but I know that it is something I must do." He took her hands and lifted her to her feet. "I will come back. I promise you that."

The train whistled and Elizabeta shuddered. It was time to go. Before she knew what she was doing she threw her arms around Roderich, burying her face into his chest. She felt him freeze up, not quite sure what to do. But then slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight and there they stood in silence, lost in their own world until the train whistled again, shattering their peace.

When she pulled away, Elizabeta laughed at the wet marks from her tears. "I'm so sorry. I've made a mess of your uniform."

Roderich smiled softly. "It's not a problem. I'm sorry I do not have a handkerchief to give you."

"I have my own somewhere."

There was an awkward pause. She wanted so much to tell him and he wanted so much to tell her but neither could speak the words they wanted to say so instead Elizabeta held out her hand.

"This isn't goodbye. You've made me a promise and I intend to hold you to it. I will see you later Roderich Edelstein."

He shook her hand. "I will see you later Elizabeta Hédeváry. Thank you."

It seemed to Elizabeta, as she watched the train pull away, that she was destined to be forever waiting. She didn't bother wiping away the tears but let them flow freely.

And so once again, the darkness closed in.

And so once again, she was alone.

* * *

She lost track of time. She didn't leave the house, she kept the windows closed, and sat in front of the clock by the fireplace. It had stopped working some weeks ago but she didn't bother buying a new one. She had always wanted to freeze time, stop it so that the people she loved never left and the joyous moments never ended. And now the clock had stopped, but it had stopped too late.

Some days she would seem to awaken from her daze and think to herself, "What in the world am I doing? A grown woman like me lying around the house like this like some heartbroken teenager?" but then she would remember what she had lost and the shame would be replaced by grief and she would fall back into the endless fog of despair.

One morning she thought she heard a knock at her door. She was in bed, although she not quite sure how long she had been there. She didn't know whether it was morning or night but there it was again, the heavy sound of someone knocking on her door. Elizabeta covered her face with her hands, wishing she could disappear.

"Elizabeta?" She sat up quickly, knowing instantly who the voice belonged to but not quite believing it.

"Antonio?" She whispered, surprised at her own voice. It had been weeks since she had spoken out loud. She climbed out of bed and almost fell back down when she saw her reflection in the mirror. At least she thought it was her reflection. But who was this pale skeleton that stared back at her with those empty green eyes? She ran her hands through her greasy brown hair and the person in the mirror did too. She dropped her hands in shock.

"How did this happen?" She whispered.

"Elizabeta?" She had forgotten Antonio. There was no time to clean up, fix her appearance, or even brush her hair. She didn't even have the energy to do so. She padded on bare feet through the dusty living room and with bony fingers, unlocked the front door. Antonio stood on the other side and she almost burst into tears when she saw the shocked look on his face.

"I'm so sorry for not coming sooner."

"It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." And that was all she could say before she was overtaken by shame, by gratitude. There was still someone left that cared about her. Someone who wanted to make sure that everything was alright.

The fog began to lift.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to eat. I haven't been out in sometime." Elizabeta said when she came into the kitchen. She rubbed a towel through her damp hair, feeling for the first time in weeks, refreshed. She didn't know how long it had been since she had even taken a shower and her face burned in shame.

"That's fine," Antonio said. He was sitting at the table. "I'll go out to get something later. Are you feeling a little better?"

She smiled. "Yes. Thank you for coming."

"You had us all worried."

"I'm sorry."

"How did you let this happen?"

Elizabeta sat down across from him. "I don't know. I just…lost track of everything."

"You should come stay with us."

She shook her head. "I have to stay here. In case I get any news."

"Then we'll come to you."

"No, I can't let you do that. I'll be fine. I promise."

Antonio's face told her that he didn't believe her. She couldn't blame him. She didn't believe herself.

"Well first things first. We need to get you something to eat." She opened her mouth but he stopped her before she could speak. "Nope. I'm going to make you a feast and I won't take no for an answer." He stood up. "So, where's the grocery store?"

.

.

.

Elizabeta set down her fork and leaned back, sated, in her chair. "I forgot how much I liked your cooking. Thank you." Antonio was bustling around in the kitchen. She could hear the sound of water running in the sink and the faint clicking of dishes and pots.

"I think I made too much so I'll help you keep the leftovers. Make sure you eat them."

Elizabeta chuckled. "I'm not going to starve myself, Antonio."

He poked his head out the kitchen. "I don't want to come back here and see that you've gotten ever skinnier."

She huffed. "Yes, mother."

"Are you sure you don't want to come back with me?"

"Yes. It's better that I stay here."

Antonio walked out of the kitchen, a dish towel swung casually over his shoulder. He had made himself at home so quickly and Elizabeta almost asked him to stay. "Ok, then I'll be back in a few days." He said.

"But I said you don't have to!" She protested.

"I told Roderich I would keep an eye on you. I've already broken my promise by leaving you alone until now. I'm not going to make that mistake again."

Elizabeta struggled to keep herself from crying. Even hearing his name sent her into a whirlwind of emotions. "Thank you."

"I'll even bring the twins next time. Feliciano really misses you. I think Lovino misses you too but I'm not sure. When I asked him he started yelling for some reason." Antonio sighed. "I'll never understand him."

Elizabeta giggled. People were so strange. They loved people who were oblivious to their affections while remaining unaware of other peoples affections for them. It was like some convoluted love triangle.

"That sounds nice. I would like to see them again too."

"Great! Anyway, before I leave I'm going to help you clean this place up. It's really dusty."

"You really don't have to."

Antonio grinned. "It's my pleasure."

Elizabeta stood up from the table. "At least let me help you."

"No. You should go rest and eat more."

Elizabeta sighed. "At least let me sweep the floor or something." She went to fetch the broom and dusters. "You're Roderich's wife, not mine."

Antonio laughed. "Ok, just don't overexert yourself." He paused as he processed the other half of what she had said. "Wait, who said I was the wife?"

* * *

"Miss. Elizabeta! We're here!" Elizabeta glanced at the clock. She had finally gotten a new one instead of finding someone to fix the old one. After all, it was almost a new year and she had spent too much time dwelling on the past. It was time for a fresh start.

The clock only read 7 p.m. Her guests were early. She set down the dough she had been attempting to shape into a Christmas tree and went to answer the door.

"Merry Christmas Miss. Elizabeta!" Feliciano shoved an elaborately wrapped gift in her hands before enveloping her in a hug. Behind him stood Lovino who tried not to look excited and Antonio who didn't even try to hide his glee.

"Merry Christmas!" He said.

"Merry Christmas, you guys are early." She said, stepping aside to let them all in. She had last seen them only two weeks ago, but it felt like a lifetime.

"See? I told you guys." Lovino grumbled.

"But it's fine. More time to celebrate!" Elizabeta set the gift down on the table. There had been an odd shortage of Christmas trees that year so she had just decided not to buy one instead of spending money she didn't have on an overpriced one. In the previous years, when she had bought a tree, it had only ever emphasized just how empty the small apartment was. She was better off without a tree.

"I was just trying to finish up the cookies, but the dough isn't cooperating." She said.

Antonio hung up his coat and rolled up his sleeves. "I'll take it from here." He disappeared into the kitchen.

Elizabeta turned to the twins. "Would you two rather help Antonio in the kitchen or help me decorate the apartment?"

"I want to help Miss. Elizabeta!"

"I'll help you." Lovino muttered.

"No one wants to help me?" Antonio called from the kitchen. Elizabeta laughed.

"Sorry, Antonio, I need them more than you do." She said. "OK! First things first!" She held up a handful of small green plants. "Mistletoe!" She dangled one of the sprigs above her head. "Would either of you like to join me?"

She laughed when both Feliciano and Lovino turned bright red. She loved teasing them.

In less than an hour, the three of them were able to transform the small apartment into a cozy holiday home. They lost a little time at the end when Antonio came to check up on their progress and walked underneath the mistletoe that Lovino had just hung up above the kitchen entrance. He had been standing underneath it to make sure that it would stay put after two previous failures when Antonio had bumped into him.

"Watch where you're going, bastard." Lovino snapped.

"Sorry Lovino, I just wanted to see how everything was going." Antonio said.

"Miss. Elizabeta, look! Antonio and Lovino are standing underneath the mistletoe!" Feliciano said happily.

"You guys know what that means." Elizabeta said, grinning widely.

Lovino blushed. "No!"

"But it's tradition!" Feliciano said.

"There's no way I'm kissing him!"

"You don't want to kiss me, Lovino?" Antonio asked, grinning.

"You're the last person in the world I want to kiss." Lovino tried to move away but was blocked by Elizabeta.

"This is my house Lovino and my rules are that you must follow tradition." She said.

"But, but…why?" He whined.

"Because you know you want to." She whispered in his ear and nudged him lightly.

"Wow Lovino, you're as red as a tomato." Antonio said.

"Shut up! Let's just get this over with." Lovino made a face and closed his eyes. "Kiss me now." He demanded.

Antonio didn't have to be told twice. Elizabeta wondered if it was normal to feel so giddy when watching two men kiss. Even if it wasn't, she didn't care. She almost complained when Antonio finally pulled away from Lovino, who was, if it was possible, even redder than before.

Lovino rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. "That was disgusting."

"Aww come on Lovino, it wasn't that bad." Antonio said.

"You shut up! I can't look at your face anymore. Go back to the kitchen." Lovino snapped.

"How was it?" Elizabeta whispered when Antonio had gone back to his cooking duties.

"I don't really want to talk about it." Lovino mumbled.

"Come on, you can tell me."

"It was…not horrible."

"Just 'not horrible'?"

"Maybe it was ok…kind of even…good." Elizabeta almost squealed in delight. She made sure to hang up a few more sprigs of mistletoe when they had finished decorating the rest of the apartment.

Once again, Antonio managed to outdo himself with dinner and he even managed to fix Elizabeta's disastrous cookies for dessert.

"Time for gifts!" Feliciano said when the plates had been cleared from the table. "Open mine first Miss. Elizabeta."

"Idiot, you can't open gifts until Christmas." Lovino said.

"Well it's 11:50. I think that's close enough." Elizabeta said, slowly peeling off the bright red wrapping paper.

"It's from Lovino and me even though Lovino didn't put down any money for it." Feliciano said.

"Shut up! I wrapped it!"

"It's…pasta noodles and an apron?" Elizabeta held up the dry noodles and the white apron that was embroidered with the face of a smiling chef.

Feliciano nodded. "There's nothing more delicious in the world than pasta and now you can make your own! The apron is for safety in case you pour water hot water on yourself."

"I love it! Thank you both!" She gave both of them quick hugs before handing them their presents.

"I'm sorry, it's not much." She said.

"Yay! I got pants" Feliciano waved them around happily. As cute as he was in his work dress, Elizabeta thought that he might appreciate normal pants from time to time.

"I got gloves." Lovino said.

"Antonio told me how you keep losing yours so I knitted them together. The string is long enough so that you loop it through your jacket. You'll never lose another pair."

"Thank you." Lovino said quietly to her before turning to Antonio. "You bastard! Don't go telling people my business!"

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

"Well it's not now but don't do it again!"

Elizabeta handed Antonio a large package. "This is for you."

"Really? But you didn't have to." He said.

"Yes I did. Open it." He carefully ripped off the paper.

"It's a cookbook!" He said.

"Over 1,000 recipes from around the world. I wish I could give you more. You've been so good to me."

"No, it's perfect!" Antonio gave her a bone crushing hug. Elizabeta resisted the urge to cry. It had been years since she had truly had a 'Merry' Christmas.

"Come into the kitchen. I need to show you something." Antonio said. They left the twins in the sitting room to compare gifts.

"This is from me." Antonio handed her a small box when they reached the kitchen. "And this is from Roderich." She hesitated before taking the second package.

"He gave it to me before he left. Open it first."

Her hands were shaking as she pulled off the paper which revealed a thin, neatly bound stack of papers. When she looked closer she realized that it was sheet music.

"Is this…?"

Antonio nodded. "It was the piece he was working on. It's still unfinished, but he wanted you to have it."

"Damn it." She whispered as tears splattered against the top page. "I'm going to make all the ink run. Thank you for this."

"Thank him when he gets back."

She nodded and wiped away the tears before opening Antonio's gift. Inside the box were a ticket and a key.

"The key is to the house. And that's a lifetime train ticket. Now you can visit us whenever you want. It only works between our two towns though."

Elizabeta gasped. "But…how could you afford something like this?"

"It was free. It's actually not just from me, it's from the whole town. It's a thank you for what you did three months ago. You saved a lot of lives."

"This is all too much." Elizabeta said. She had begun to cry again.

"You deserve it." The clock in the sitting room rang twelve, midnight. "Merry Christmas Elizabeta."

"Merry Christmas Antonio."

4 days later on New Year's Eve Elizabeta used her ticket and rode the train for the first time since Roderich had left. She used the key to open the door and stepped into the house that had become her home.

That night, she, Antonio, Feliciano, and Lovino rang in the New Year. It was January 1st, 1944. And after the champagne that had been kept for special occasions had been poured and kisses exchanged, Elizabeta made her first wish for the New Year.

_Please, bring them home safely.

* * *

_

"Why can't I get this? Damn it!" Elizabeta yelled, her hands falling heavily onto the piano keys. She had spent the past few weeks attempting to play the piece Roderich had left for her but she was still very much a beginner pianist and the song was designed for an expert.

"Something wrong?" She turned around to find Antonio leaning against the doorway.

"I can't play this. I don't know why Roderich gave this to me. It's too hard."

"He wouldn't have given it to you if he thought you couldn't play it. Let's try again. I'll help you this time." Elizabeta moved over to allow Antonio to slide next to her on the piano bench.

"I didn't know you could play the piano." She said.

"When he was in a good mood, Roderich used to teach me. He's a very strict teacher, but you know this."

She smiled. That she did.

Antonio quickly skimmed the piece and then arranged his hands on the keys. "Put your hands on top of mine." He said.

"What?"

"This will help you."

Elizabeta did as she was told. "This is a very unorthodox teaching method."

Antonio laughed. "That's what I told Roderich." He played slowly and she watched their hands, learning the keys and learning the music. Antonio was very good in fact and played with only a few minimal errors. However, before they reached the last page he took his hands off the piano.

Elizabeta let her hands fall to her side. "Why did you stop?"

"Because Roderich gave this song to you. I can't finish it before you do. Do you want to start from the beginning again?"

"Yes please." And they played until, hours later, Lovino wandered into the room and complained that his stomach was empty.

* * *

"Miss. Elizabeta, the mail is here!"

"Could you bring it in for me Feliciano? I'm almost done in here." It was almost April and the weather was getting warmer each day. Feeling that the apartment had too much of a winter feel, Elizabeta had sewn a new set of curtains to liven the place up. She stood on tips toes to secure the last drapery in place. She wished Antonio was there but him and Lovino had gone to the store to find ingredients to make churros. They were a "sweet treat from his homeland" he had said.

"Got it." Elizabeta took a few steps back to admire the new curtains. They instantly brightened the apartment. No doubt Gilbert would find them tacky, but she could care less about his opinion.

"Hey, Miss. Elizabeta, there's a strange letter here." Feliciano said when he came back into the apartment.

She turned and her whole body froze when she saw what Feliciano held in his hands. It was a telegram.

Screaming, she fell to her knees. She couldn't stop, even when Feliciano ran over to her, asking again and again what was wrong, she couldn't stop.

Finally, she stopped when she felt strong hands lift her up and she found herself in Antonio's arms.

"It's, it's, it's…" She was gasping. Her whole body was shaking and until that moment she hadn't realized that she was crying. "I don't want to see it. I can't. Take it away. I can't do it. Please take it away."

Antonio set her down gently on the couch and picked up the telegram from where Feliciano had dropped it. She screamed again when he opened it and covered her face with her hands.

"No," she moaned. "No, no, no, no, no."

Antonio read the telegram out loud, his voice grave. "We regret to inform you—"

"Please stop."

"—that Lieutenant Gilbert Beilschmidt—"

Elizabeta cried harder. It was Gilbert. Gilbert who had always been so careless, so reckless, doing whatever he wanted to do without thinking. Gilbert, whom she both hated and loved but loved so much more than she hated.

"—has been fatally wounded."

Wounded… wounded. Not dead. Gilbert wasn't dead. He wasn't dead.

"He's being treated at Val-de-Grâce Hospital (1) in Paris, France."

France. She had to go to France.

"You should leave immediately." Antonio said.

"I don't have…I can't afford to go to France." Was the only thing Elizabeta could say. "I have emergency money that will only take me there. I have no way of getting back…"

"I'll take care of it."

"Antonio, no..."

"You should go pack your things. I'll see if I can still get you a ticket for tomorrow morning."

Elizabeta began to cry again. Not just for Gilbert but because of all the good people in her life.

* * *

While most people slept on the train, Elizabeta dared not to. She feared that if she slept something terrible would happen. The train would fall off the tracks, an Allied bomb would hit her carriage, or she would miss her stop. So she stayed awake and watched the passing towns and farms. Eventually, it all became a blur to her and she had to turn away from the window when she began to feel ill.

She had never been to Paris, or even France, so when she stepped off the train she was terrified that she would be lost. It was early evening and the sun was almost set when she arrived. Finally, she was noticed by a passing soldier who, maybe out of suspicion or maybe out of sympathy, asked if she needed any help. He spoke to her in German and she wondered in the back of her mind how he knew that she wasn't French. Maybe he was used to frightened young women stepping off trains to find brothers, boyfriends, husbands that had been injured in the war. When she told him she needed to get to Val-de-Grâce hospital he politely pointed her in the right direction in a manner that suggested he had done this many times before. She thanked him and slowly made her way through the bustling streets of Paris.

When she arrived at the hospital, she was greeted by a smiling young woman at the front desk. Elizabeta told her who she was there to see and after looking through a stack of papers in front of her, the woman told her that she would find Gilbert Beilschmidt in the second ward to her right.

Heart beating quickly, Elizabeta thanked her and walked straight ahead, not looking at the other patients and their scars and lost limbs.

Gilbert was asleep when she found him. He looked so peaceful that for a second she thought that he was dead, but then he coughed and she remembered to breathe again. Elizabeta couldn't remember the last time she had seen him so still. The Gilbert she knew was a ball of never ending energy, always bouncing from one place to the other. He was an irritant and a vexation but she would have given anything to have him leap up from the bed and demand that everyone in that ward call him King Gilbert. But he lay still and did not even stir when she pulled found a chair and pulled it up to his bedside.

She took in his injuries. Both his hands were tightly bandaged; most likely because of burns. Elizabeta winced. Burns were so painful! His head was also bandaged and near his cheek was a scar that she had never seen before. There was another near his chin and she resisted the urge to trace it with her finger. One of his legs was bandaged and suspended in the air in a sling. If he had any other injuries then they were hidden by the blanket that covered him. She prayed that there were none.

The telegram had mentioned nothing about Ludwig. Elizabeta had no idea whether he had been present when Gilbert was injured or if he even knew that his brother was in the hospital. She closed her eyes and whispered a short prayer that he was safe and that Roderich was safe. When she opened her eyes she gasped because Gilbert was awake and looking at her with an amused expression.

"When did you become religious?"

"Gilbert!" She stood up and threw her arms around him.

"Damn it Elizabeta! You're worse than the whole British Army!" He groaned. She laughed because this was the Gilbert she knew.

"How are you feeling? What happened? How long have you been there?"

"One question at a time. Damn, where's Francis? Now I need my pain medication again." Gilbert grumbled.

Elizabeta sat back down and pulled her chair closer to the bed. "Please, tell me everything."

"Well first off, it's good to see you again. Have you gained weight?"

"Don't make me break your other leg."

"Nice to see you haven't changed."

"Answer my questions! How did this happen?"

"Can we talk after I get my meds?"

"No!"

Gilbert sighed. "Fine. It was an air raid. I was at the airfield. We were trying to get planes in the air but we weren't moving fast enough." He voice grew shaky. "We finally got a guy going but his plane stalled halfway down the runaway. They shot him down right there."

He swallowed heavily. "I was helping get the ammo out of the hanger when they dropped a bomb on it. I don't remember much after that. Probably because of the concussion. Just a lot of screaming…and blood. And then I woke up here." Gilbert tried to smile but it wouldn't stay in place. "Great story, isn't it?"

Elizabeta sniffed. "I'm so sorry Gilbert."

"I've been here a little over a week. I have…had a concussion, I have 2nd degree burns on my hands, I got shrapnel stuck in my stomach and my right leg is busted. Overall, I feel pretty shitty. Come on now, don't cry."

Elizabeta wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. I've been doing that a lot recently."

"Cause of your boyfriend?" She had mentioned Roderich's return to the army in her letters, asking that Gilbert keep an eye out of for him. It was unlikely that the two would meet, considering the difference in their ranks, but just in case.

"He's not my boyfriend! And not just because of him. You don't think I worry about you and Ludwig? How is Ludwig? Have you heard from him?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I haven't seen him in almost two months. Our unit got split up. I'm sure he's ok. It will take more than a few bombs to knock West down."

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?" Elizabeta turned to find a man, who was identified by his clothes as doctor, smirking at her. His name tag read Dr. Francis Bonnefoy. "Gilbert, you didn't tell me you would be having a guest. And such an attractive one too."

"Keep your pants on Francis," Gilbert said, grinning, "This one's off limits. She's my cousin."

Elizabeta stood up to shake the doctor's hand. "Elizabeta Hédeváry. It's nice to meet you." He was very attractive, with bright blue eyes and long blond hair pulled into a low ponytail. Elizabeta wondered if he had forgotten to shave that morning. He had a small stubble, but it seemed to suit him in a way. He was clearly French. He spoke German perfectly but the accent was there.

"Thank you for taking care of Gilbert, Dr. Bonnefoy." She said.

Gilbert snorted. "More like torturing me. Francis, I'm dying here. Tell me you have my morphine."

The doctor ignored him, his attention focused on Elizabeta. "Please, call me Francis and your cousin is a horrible patient."

"I'm so sorry if he's caused you any trouble. This is just how he is."

"Hello? I'm right here. I can hear everything you're saying." Gilbert said. "Francis, please. I'm about pass out."

The doctor sighed before finally turned to Gilbert. "Mon cher," He said, switching momentarily to French, "you are on your way to becoming a drug addict. But if you simply cannot wait, I'll call the nurse. First, tell me how you're feeling."

"My hands are on fire, seriously. It feels worse than when they were actually on fire."

"Gilbert, don't joke like that!" Elizabeta snapped.

Gilbert ignored her. "And my ass hurts. When can I get out of this bed?"

"When you stop being a little snot. How's the head? Any dizziness or sensitivity to light?"

"I get dizzy when you say my name." Gilbert said. Elizabeta snorted. Francis chuckled.

"He's such a charmer, this one." He said. "And I don't need to ask if you're in pain so let's do a quick full body check-up."

Gilbert grinned. "He loves this part. The pervert."

"I'm not a pervert, it's my job." Francis said, but he was grinning as well. "Miss. Hédeváry, if you could step outside for a moment."

"Of course. Gilbert, be good!"

"Tell that to him!"

Elizabeta drew the curtain closed behind her and stood awkwardly on the other side. She could hear the sound of Gilbert giggling and Francis whispering something in French. Her face burned because half of her wanted to stay rooted to the spot and the other half wanted to rip down the curtains and see just what she was missing. Before she could decide, Francis pulled back curtain. She couldn't read his face, but Gilbert looked absolutely smug.

"Everything is healing well and we should hope to get him out of here in a few days. Thank goodness." Francis said. "I'll go find the nurse and have her bring you your medication, Gilbert. Make sure he stays in bed. I've caught him trying to crawl out twice now."

"It's not my fault that this place is so damn boring." Gilbert whined. Francis rolled his eyes and went to go call the nurse.

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "What exactly is going on between you two?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Not sure, but I'm having fun."

Elizabeta sat back down in her chair. "I had no idea you had a taste for the French. He was so polite too. I expected all French people to hate us."

"Nah, Francis is awesome. He can be a horrible tease sometimes. And they're not all bad. At least not the ones in here. Hey, the cafeteria is around the corner. I'm starving. Get me a sandwich."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "Get it yourself."

"Fine." Gilbert made a motion to pull his leg out of the sling.

"I was just joking!" Luckily, the nurse chose that moment to appear.

"So what have you been up to?" Gilbert asked after he had been effectively sedated.

"Playing the piano."

"That's kind of stupid."

"I don't need your opinion. I like it."

"Are you any good?"

"Not really, but I'm getting better."

Gilbert yawned. "Play something for me when I get out of here."

"Will you be going back to the army?"

Gilbert frowned. "No. I'm done. Officially discharged and everything. Lucky me." Elizabeta noticed that he didn't sound like someone who thought themselves lucky.

"I got new curtains for the apartment." She said.

"What color?"

"Green. I wanted something spring like."

"I hate spring. Damn my allergies." Gilbert yawned again. "I love this stuff."

Elizabeta frowned. "Don't get used to it."

"Mhmm." Gilbert mumbled. His eyelids were drooping.

Francis poked his head around the curtain. "Is he asleep yet?"

"Not yet, you bastard." Gilbert's word were slightly slurred as he fought against the drowsiness.

"He'll be out in a few minutes." Francis told Elizabeta. "What are your plans for tonight? Do you have a place to stay?"

Elizabeta blushed. "No. I assumed I would just stay here. I have no money for a hotel."

Francis made a disproving sound. "A hospital is a horrible place to spend the night. Trust me. And we're currently at maximum capacity so I can't even offer you one of our beds." He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a set of keys.

"No, I couldn't." Elizabeta said.

"I insist. You're his cousin after all." He turned to Gilbert. "Is that all right with you, love? Can your beautiful cousin spend the night at my apartment?" But Gilbert had finally fallen asleep and his only reply was a soft snore.

Francis saw that Elizabeta was still hesitant. He took her hand and dropped the keys on to it.

"Take my bed. Don't worry, I just washed the sheets. I won't be done here for at least a few hours. Besides, you look exhausted."

She was exhausted. She hadn't slept the night before and she had gotten no sleep on the train. But it still seemed strange to accept an invitation from a man she barely knew.

"If you're worried about me crawling into bed with you at night, there's a lock on my bedroom door. I mean, I can always climb through the window, but I don't want my neighbor to report me again."

Elizabeta laughed, hoping this was a joke, but somehow knew that it wasn't. "Thank you." She said.

"It's no problem." Francis gave her directions to his apartment and after promising that they would have lunch tomorrow, went to go check on the rest of his patients.

Elizabeta whispered a quick goodbye to Gilbert before leaving the hospital. It was completely dark outside and she guessed it was somewhere around midnight. She had not brought much with her, but she clutched her bag tightly as she maneuvered the slim streets of Paris until she reached Francis' apartment.

Not bothering to turn on any lights, she felt her way through the dark until she found the bedroom. She closed the door behind her but didn't lock it. She dropped her bags onto the floor, climbed into the bed, and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Long chapter is long /dead. I did my best to check for error/grammar mistakes but it's almost 2 AM here and I'm so sleepy. I just wanted to get this chapter up tonight because I'll be busy tomorrow. Sorry if I spelled anything wrong /yawn. I will do my best to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. My goal is to finish this fic before the end of February.

I'm sorry I made Elizabeta so damn weepy in the chapter. I totally killed her action girl status from last chapter ;A;

(1) This is a real hospital. It's a military hospital so it works perfectly. However, I do not know their policies on treating German soldiers in WWII. I tried looking it up, but found nothing. Paris was still occupied by Germany at this time so I'm assuming that the hospitals would be under German control. If anyone finds any different information, please tell me so that I can edit this chapter!

Thank you all!

-with love

dancer


	6. Homecoming

**A/N:** One more chapter people! One more and then the epilogue! I am both sad and happy that I'm almost done with the story. But I'll save the emotions for the next two chapters. Now, enough of my blah, blah, blah. Enjoy the chapter~

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

* * *

**

_A Song for the Silent_

_Homecoming  
_

When Elizabeta woke up the next morning it took her a few seconds to remember that yes, she was Paris, and yes, she was in a stranger's bed.

Slowly, she sat up and stretched. Glancing down, she wrinkled her nose at her now rumpled clothes. She hoped that stores is Paris were not too expensive. Still in a daze from the telegram, she had only brought enough clean clothing for two days and it seemed that Gilbert wasn't going to be released from the hospital for at least another week. What she was to do until then, Elizabeta wasn't quite sure.

Her musings were cut short at the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. Elizabeta froze but then remembered that it was probably Francis. Her sleep addled mind was still, just barely, able to remember the sound of a door clicking shut sometime during the middle of the night. Suddenly, Elizabeta felt guilty, knowing that the doctor had most likely slept on his couch, which was not fair at all considering how late he had arrived home. Money or no money, Elizabeta decided that she could not impede anymore than she already had. Even if that meant nothing except an old cot in the hospital, she would take it.

Elizabeta slid out of bed and tried to smooth out the wrinkles in her clothes. Luckily, Francis kept a mirror by his bedside and she fixed the bird's nest that was her hair before opening the bedroom door and peering into the kitchen. Francis was sitting at a small table in the kitchen, a cup of something warm in his hand—not coffee, no one was able to get coffee these days—reading what was most likely that morning's paper. His long hair was unbound and it trickled down his shoulder in loose curls. He glanced up when he heard the door open and smiled.

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, "did you sleep well?"

Elizabeta nodded. "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry for taking your bed."

"Think nothing of it. I'll tell you the truth, I peeped in this morning and it took all my willpower not to slide underneath those covers with you."

Elizabeta laughed, once again, hoping that this was a joke, but somehow knowing that it wasn't. Well at least the man was honest.

"I'll be staying in the hospital for the rest of my time here so you don't have to sleep on the couch again."

"Perish the thought, darling. As long as you are staying in Paris, you will stay with me."

Elizabeta opened her mouth but Francis cut her off.

"I won't here another word about the matter. Are you hungry? I promised you lunch and I intend to keep that promise."

Deciding to back down for now, Elizabeta nodded. "I don't have any money—"

"Who needs money when you have me?" Francis said smiling. "The medicinal arts are not the only thing I'm talented in. I just happen to be a master chef."

Elizabeta suddenly thought of Antonio and smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yes. Come, sit down and I'll make you something that will get rid of any lingering thoughts you have about leaving."

30 minutes later, Elizabeta's taste buds were in heaven. "You have to meet my friend back home. You two would get along so well. He's from Spain."

"Well their cuisine is second to ours in terms of quality." Francis said. "Do you mind if I get a little nosy about you? Gilbert has told me bits and pieces—"

Elizabeta shuddered, imaging the fire-breathing demon Gilbert had most likely described her as.

"—and I find you intriguing, as well as lovely, so do tell me more about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with the basics. Family?"

"Only Gilbert and Ludwig. I may call them my cousins, but we're not actually related by blood. Our parents were just close friends and we all grew up together. Their father was killed in an automobile accident. Their mother died a few months later." Elizabeta stirred her spoon in the dregs of her lemon water. She had been right. Even tea was almost impossible to come by these days. "My father had a bad heart. He's been dead over 10 years. And my mother died three years before the war started. I think in the end, she was just tired."

_She was tired of seeing all the people she loved die around her,_ Elizabeta thought to herself. _If only she had remembered that she still had someone left that loved her…_

"After she died, the boys and I decided that we would get our own place." She laughed. "If you want to call moving a few floors up a huge transition. But we've been there ever since."

"No rich aunts or uncles?"

"No. It's just us. Some days I loved it, some days it was a nightmare. It's not easy living with two grown men. Ludwig is actually very neat but Gilbert is terrible. He never folds his clothes and I don't think that he even knows how to wash a pair of socks. We used to argue a lot back then, we still do, and there were times that I wished I could just move out and get away from it all." Elizabeta felt the familiar pressure in her chest that always came before she was about to cry and she pushed it down. "Now I would give anything to have that again."

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. You asked me about myself and I've done nothing except tell you my troubles."

"Don't apologize." Francis said. "We all have troubles. We just need to learn how to live with them. Are you done?"

"Yes, thank you so much." Although she would have preferred to wash the plate herself, she handed it to Francis.

"Good! Now go get cleaned up so I can take you shopping."

Elizabeta blinked. "Shopping?"

Francis dropped the plate into the sink and leaned against the counter. "Well of course. Gilbert won't be released for at least three days and you obviously didn't bring enough clothes to last you your whole stay." Elizabeta opened her mouth but he quickly cut her off, again. "And don't say a word about money. True, these days I'm not paid nearly enough for my services, but I'm not a poor man. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you wander around Paris in secondhand rags?"

"But you really don't have to do this!"

"Yes I do." Francis said. "Besides, if you are to be my companion for the next few days, I must have you looking as good as myself."

And that was that. Two hours later, Elizabeta found herself seated outside a posh café, wearing, according to Francis, the latest trends in fashion.

"If you want to call that fashion." Francis said dryly. "The fashion industry in Paris is almost dead. It's not surprising with everything being exported to Berlin and all the rations on silk and lace." He sighed. "It's heartbreaking."

Elizabeta reached up to touch the array of bright flowers in her new hat. With their best designers retired or abroad, the French had had to find some way to stand out. The hats were brightly and elaborately decorated to the extent that Elizabeta would have felt self conscious if the women around her were not sporting similar headdresses. She had tried to go for the simple and cheap route, but Francis had gotten his way in the end.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Francis raised an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"

"For everything. I was born in Hungary, but I've been raised as a German. They are my people and I'm sorry what they've done to you." She looked down at her hands. In a way, she felt like a traitor. Gilbert, Ludwig, and now Roderich were all soldiers that had fought for their country but although she supported them, she could not support the war. "I don't understand how you can even stand to be in my company. I was honestly surprised at how…familiar you were with Gilbert yesterday. How can you not hate us?"

Francis didn't say anything immediately and Elizabeta feared that she had offended him. Well, if he no longer wanted to be around her, she wouldn't hold it against him.

"Would you like to know why I became a doctor?" Francis asked finally. Elizabeta nodded, not sure how this related to the topic at hand.

"I became a doctor so that I could touch people as intimately as I wanted without being reported for it."

Elizabeta nearly choked on the piece of bread she had just put in her mouth.

Francis smiled and tossed a golden curl over his shoulder. "It's true. I love the human body. It's so perfectly flawed that it's beautiful. I wanted to work with that body. I'm a very talented man in many fields, but unfortunately, art is not one of them. So the next best thing was medicine. Yes, you might think, what could be beautiful about the sick, blind, and lame? Usually there isn't—not counting your cousin of course. Beauty comes through healing and my job as a doctor is to heal people. I could care less if they are French or German; a civilian or a Nazi. My patients are people and that is all I see them as. And that is all I see you as: a beautiful girl, who like many, is suffering from the effects of this war."

"You make it all sound so simple." Elizabeta said.

"Here's my advice to you, love. Live your life. Don't forget about the war, but don't let it consume you. No one knows when it's going to be over, so don't sit there waiting for it to end. Just live your life."

Elizabeta gave him a look of helplessness and confusion and Francis signaled to the waiter for another cup of 'tea'. This was going to take longer than he had thought.

* * *

"Where have you been all day?" Gilbert asked when Elizabeta returned to the hospital later that afternoon. "I thought you had abandoned me."

"She's been with me." Francis said. "She stayed at my place last night and will continue to stay there until you are released."

Gilbert's jaw dropped. "Francis, I swear, if you tried anything…"

"Aww, you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous! I'm doing my older brother figure like duty."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. How convenient that Gilbert chose now to decide to act his age.

"You don't need to worry your pretty little head, love. Nothing happened…unfortunately." Francis added the last bit so softly that only Elizabeta could hear it. He winked at her and she blushed.

"Now if you both would excuse me, I have patients to attend to."

"What about me?" Gilbert asked.

"What about you? I'll be around to check on you later, love. Au revoir~"

Elizabeta watched Francis stroll away and when she turned back to Gilbert, he was giving her a suspicious look.

"What? He was telling you the truth. Nothing happened."

"It's not about that. You look different."

"It's the hat."

"No, you look…happier. More relaxed."

"Really?" She did feel better after her talk with Francis.

"Yeah, you looked like shit yester—ow! I'm an injured man!"

Elizabeta slowly uncurled her fist and sat down. "Obviously not injured enough."

They chatted for half an hour, without, for once, black censor bars obstructing their words, until Gilbert complaints about being bored finally drove Elizabeta to ask a passing nurse if they could use one of the available wheelchairs.

The nurse, a pretty blonde girl whose name tag read "Bella", was reluctant at first. "Dr. Bonnefoy doesn't want Mr. Beilschmidt to put any strain on his stomach due to his internal injuries. He doesn't want him sitting up for long periods of time."

Gilbert scoffed. "Tell Francis that he needs to loosen up. Not his belt, but in general. I'm fine. Don't I look great?" Elizabeta didn't think so. His hands, head, and leg were still tightly bandaged and she could see the fading bruises on his body that she had missed in the dim light the night before. But a bored Gilbert was an extra annoying Gilbert so she would indulge him this one time.

"It would only be for, at most, half an hour," she said to the nurse. "Please?"

The nurse finally relented. It took some careful maneuvering, but both women were able to get Gilbert into the wheelchair. When they were done, Elizabeta reflected that it would have been much more difficult if she hadn't spent months doing the same thing with Roderich.

"If I had known the extent of your injuries," Elizabeta said as she wheeled Gilbert down an empty hall, "I would have brought Roderich's old chair. It's still sitting in his room. I don't know why he kept it."

"Hey, I have a question for you. Do you love this guy?"

Elizabeta nearly tripped, causing the wheelchair to violently jerk as she struggled to keep her balance. Gilbert groaned at the sudden jolt and held his stomach in pain.

"I said he's not my boyfriend!"

Gilbert took a deep breath to relax his stomach muscles and sat back up straight in the chair. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you are in love with him?"

"Are you in love with Francis?"

"Don't change the subject, Lizzy." She calmed down a little at the nickname. Gilbert only called her that when he was being serious. Usually it was Liz, Elizabeta, or Psycho Woman.

"Why do you care?" She asked.

"You used to talk about him a lot in your letters."

"So? He could just be a good friend."

"Weh-ell, you just seemed to get really…sappy, when you brought him up."

Elizabeta felt her cheeks heat up. She had never realized this.

"So do you love him?" They turned the corner into another ward. Most of the patients were taking afternoon naps, but a few nodded at them as they passed.

"I…I suppose." Elizabeta said.

"You suppose?"

"Fine! Yes. I…I am in love with him." She had never said this out loud before and hearing it made her realize just how true it was.

"Have you told him?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"…yes."

"When?"

"Well aren't we nosy today!" Elizabeta snapped. "I'll tell him when he gets back."

"When he gets back?"

"You're not a parrot Gilbert, stop repeating what I say! Yes, when he gets back. He promised me he would come back and I believe him." Gilbert said nothing and Elizabeta stopped walking and leaned around to face him.

"He's going to come back Gilbert. He is. Ludwig too."

Gilbert sighed. "I never said they weren't. I just thought you might want to tell him as soon as possible how you felt."

Elizabeta started pushing the chair once more. "When the time is right, I'll tell him. Now tell me about you and Francis. He would not tell me anything today!"

"That's classified information."

Elizabeta huffed. "Gilbert Beilschmidt, I think you are a horrible person."

Gilbert laughed. "Yeah, I am pretty awesome."

He refused to tell her anything, even when she threatened to abandon him in a broom closet. Eventually, she stopped trying to pry information out of him and they traveled in comfortable silence around the patient wards and hallways until Francis found them and scolded Gilbert for being gone too long.

Four days later, Gilbert was finally released. The bandages had finally been removed from his head, although he would have to keep the bandages on his hands for another week.

"The leg should fully heal in a few months." Francis said as he walked them to the hospital door. He had wanted to walk them to the train station, but the hospital was experiencing a busy period. "Make sure he doesn't ruin it by trying to get around on his own too soon."

"I'll make sure to keep an eye on him." Elizabeta said. Gilbert made a grumbling noise in the wheelchair. They arrived at the front door. "Thank you so much Francis, for everything. I wish you would let me repay you."

She would miss Paris. It was a beautiful city. When he wasn't at the hospital, Francis had taken her everywhere, often reminding her that she had a life live. Yes, the man was a bit of a pervert—he had tried on more than one occasion to take her to one of the racier cabarets—but she liked him and had very much enjoyed his company.

Francis took Elizabeta's hands in his own. "Being able to spend these days with you has been payment enough." He kissed her on both cheeks, causing her to blush.

"Don't I get anything?" Gilbert whined. "I deserve something."

Francis turned to him, a sly grin in place. "My love, the only thing you deserve is the morphine I packed for you." But he leaned in and captured Gilbert's lips in a searing kiss that made Elizabeta's body temperature skyrocket. It wasn't until the nurse behind the front desk gave a polite cough—her face also quite red—that the two pulled apart. If she hadn't been trying to cool herself down, Elizabeta would have laughed at the dreamy smile on Gilbert's flushed face.

"Take care you yourself." Francis said.

He waved to them until they were swallowed up by the crowd and he could see them no more.

* * *

Elizabeta was not prepared for what she found when she and Gilbert finally arrived home.

"Are those my clothes?" Gilbert asked, pointing to one of the many piles outside their apartment building. "And is that Gilbird?"

"What's going on?" Elizabeta said, noticing her things as well. Just then, their landlord stepped out of the building.

"Mr. Schnell, what is the meaning of this? Why are of our things out here?"

"I'm sorry, Elizabeta, but your rent is three months overdue and I can't afford to give you anymore extensions." The landlord replied.

Elizabeta was in shock. "Please sir, our families have lived in this building for over 25 years and we've always paid on time. I've been dealing with personal matters up until now but I'll be able to get you the money by next month. I promise." She felt her heart sink when the man shook his head.

"It's out of my hands, Liz. At this rate, I'll have to close down the whole building within the year. Like you, a lot of my tenants have been here for years and I've had to give half of them eviction notices within the past week." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief and blew into it loudly. "It's heartbreaking. I don't want to do it, but what other choice do I have? The war has crippled this town. But I can do one last think for you, Liz. I owe it to your poor mother. If you have place that you can go, I can have all of your things taken there. No charge."

There was only place in the world Elizabeta knew she would always be welcome.

Antonio didn't seem surprised when she arrived the house, Gilbert and everything they could afford to bring, in tow.

"Stay as long as you like." He said, smiling.

Within a week, they were settled in and although Elizabeta missed the home of her childhood, the sting was lessened by the fact that in the past two years, Roderich's house had become her second home.

Gilbert had no problem adjusting at all. He found the twins adorable and he and Antonio clicked immediately. It was as if they had been friends forever.

"You have to meet Francis. He's almost as awesome as I am." Gilbert said one day and Elizabeta thought that the three of them would make a very…unique trio. She shuddered and hoped that she was never underneath the same roof as all three men. It would be utter chaos.

A sense of normalcy returned to Elizabeta's life and she was grateful for this.

* * *

A few months later, when the warm weather was approaching them and Gilbert was beginning to hobble around the house, Elizabeta had a strange dream. The same day she had this dream, Roderich stood outside the crumbling remains of what was a middle class apartment in western Berlin.

Only one family was left there now and despite his attempts to get them to move somewhere safer, they would not budge. The family was made up of a small, tired wife, an aging husband, two small children—a boy and girl, twins, not yet nine—and a feeble grandmother. They all stared with stony, war weary faces from the shattered windows as the soldiers trekked by.

"There's no reasoning with people like that." Roderich tore his eyes away from the apartment to face a fellow soldier. "You should just give up."

"But it's not safe there. That building is already unstable. If there is another air raid, they won't stand a chance." Roderich said.

The soldier nodded. "I know that. They know that. Everyone knows that."

"Then why do they stay?"

"Because when your house and the people in it are all that's left, you're not going to let that go. No matter what." The soldier walked away, leaving Roderich more pained than he knew.

In his mind, Roderich saw them all sitting at the dinner table. Lovino would be complaining, as usual, about the lateness of dinner. Feliciano would be in his own world, to be brought back to reality only when his plate was slid in front of him. Antonio, ever cheerful and loving, would look past Lovino's rudeness and see Feliciano's dreamy countenance as only precious. Antonio would make sure that everyone was served and happy before finally seeing to himself. And Elizabeta, she would be there too on one of her weekly visits. She would be teasing the twins and laughing with Antonio over a shared joke, the image of loveliness with all her grace and charm; everything that Roderich loved about her. They would all be there, but he would stay where he was because that had been his choice.

No regrets.

"You're falling behind, Edelstein."

With on last glance at the apartment, Roderich followed his unit through the ruined, dirty streets. That was what the war had become, dirty. Everywhere there was filth. Dirt, mud, dust, refuse. It covered the buildings and streets and clung to clothes. No matter how hard Roderich scrubbed his shirts, they would never be clean again. They were forever stained, forever tainted.

Roderich caught an unwanted glimpse of himself in a broken mirror and grimaced. Even his face was dirty. His hair, that he had always kept so well, was coated with debris. His glasses were filthy. It was amazing that he could even see. His whole body was grubby and unclean and not just because of the dirt and gunpowder.

"Everyone get down!" The warning came only seconds before the tell-a-tale scream of the falling bomb, followed by the ground shaking explosion. Roderich climbed into the crawl space of what had once been a bakery. He put his head down, covered his ears and waited for the end to come.

Twenty minutes later, the echoes from the last bomb finally faded away and Roderich emerged back into the broken world. If it was possible, everything was even more destroyed than before. When they doubled back to inspect the damage, Roderich saw that there was nothing left of the apartment building. It had been completely blown away.

Averting his eyes and resisting the urge to vomit, he kept his head down and continued to march to what might as well have been the chambers of the devil himself. On his way there, he passed another unit. All the soldiers had their heads down except the last man. Tall and blond—his hair was slicked back, something that Roderich couldn't help but envy—he stood the most upright of the group. For a second, they locked eyes. In those blue eyes, Roderich saw something that he envied even more than perfectly styled hair: an unyielding fighting spirit. It was not until the man and the company had gone their own way that Roderich realized that he knew him.

He was the same man in the pictures that Elizabeta had showed him of her cousins.

.

.

.

In her dream, Elizabeta dreamt that she lay on the floor of a white room with no walls. Above her, a pendulum swung, unaided and at a steady rate until she reached out to touch it and it stopped. And then she woke up to see the first rays of sunlight trickling into her window.

Later that day, when she and Gilbert sat in the backyard garden, she told him about her dream.

"I once had a dream about Gilbird eating my socks." Gilbert said. "I don't think it meant anything."

"I'm not sure this one did either." Elizabeta said. But if that was so, then what was this frightening anticipation that she felt so strongly?

In time, the strange dream slipped from her thoughts. In time, winter finally lost it last grip on them and the flowers on the trees bloomed prettily. In time, Gilbert's leg finally healed. And in time, the war finally ended.

May 7th, 1945. She had been sitting in the dining room with Antonio when Gilbert had burst into the house, yelling about reports that Germany had surrendered. After a year of taking Francis' advice, and living her life, Elizabeta finally let herself cry again. She felt a mixture of joy and despair. They had lost but at least it was over.

She cried again the next day at the news that German forces had officially surrendered to the Soviets in Berlin. They were at the mercy of the Allies now and a part of her feared for what would happen next. But her thoughts were mostly on the soldiers coming home, specifically her soldiers. Each night she prayed that Ludwig and Roderich would come home safe.

Until then, she would live her life.

* * *

It was a muggy morning in early June but Elizabeta decided to go for a walk anyway. She had slept little the night before and felt agitated and restless. It had been unusually humid and even with all the windows of the house thrown open, no one could have relief from the heat.

When she returned, she felt refreshed and somewhat more clear-headed. She was surprised to see Antonio sitting in front of the house in an old pair of pants rolled up to his knees. His shirt was off to the side, but after living for years with Gilbert—who sometimes enjoyed walking around the naked as another way to proclaim his 'awesomeness'—she paid little attention to this.

"Good morning, where have you been?" Antonio asked.

"Walking. I just felt so sticky and gross. I really hope this weather passes soon."

"Same. That's why I came out here. The house is like a steam room. By the way, the mail arrived while you were gone."

Her heart skipped a beat.

"But there was nothing for you. I'm sorry."

Elizabeta put on her best smile. "They'll be back, Antonio. Roderich promised me."

"I know." Antonio said. "If you want to wash up, I would wait a little bit. Believe it or not, we're out of cold water."

Elizabeta sighed. "Gilbert…"

Antonio laughed. "He's been taking really long cold showers. Sometimes I wonder what he's doing in there."

Elizabeta made a face. "I don't want to know. I guess I'll just go play the piano then. I can get through the whole piece now."

"Congratulations!"

Elizabeta gave a little bow. "Thank you. I even have an idea for how to finish it. Don't ask me about it though. It's still a work in progress."

"I'll wait for its completion."

"Don't stay out here too long. This heat will make you sick." Elizabeta called over her shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Antonio chuckled. "Yes ma'am."

There were many things Elizabeta could have done differently that day. She could have woken up five minutes later or chosen to take the longer route around the pond or she could have stopped to fix the broken lace in her shoe. If she had done anything of these things, she would have still been outside with Antonio and would have heard the sound of feet on the worn path. She would have heard Antonio gasp as he saw who was coming towards the house and would have watched him leap to his feet to greet them. But she did none of those things and instead went to the music room to practice.

She was so absorbed in the piece that she did not hear the sound of someone closing the door behind her and didn't realize that she wasn't alone in the room until she finally finished the song. Thinking it was Antonio, she turned around grinning.

"I finished it! What did you think…of…that…" It wasn't Antonio that stood at the door.

"You missed the last accidental." Roderich said. "I'm afraid I did not make that clear enough the page, so I suppose it can be overlooked this time—"

He was cut off as Elizabeta threw herself into his arms.

"Thank you." She said, almost too choked up to speak. "Thank you so much."

"I told you I would come back."

"Thank you. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"More or less. It's not important now."

She looked into his eyes and smiled. He smiled back and she knew that this was the perfect moment to say what she wanted to. But before she could even begin to form the words, the door to the music room swung open.

"Holy shit, Liz! West is back!" Gilbert yelled. Elizabeta's hands flew to her mouth as Ludwig stepped into view to stand next to his brother. She launched herself at him and nearly knocked him over.

"Oh yes, I should have mentioned that first." Roderich said, watching as both Elizabeta and Gilbert attempted to climb on top of Ludwig before all three collapsed onto the floor. "We met some time ago when our units merged. I remembered him from your picture and when Berlin was taken, we came back together."

Ludwig was finally allowed to sit up and catch his breath. "We stopped over at the apartment first, but it was closed down. Roderich guessed that you two would be here."

"It seems this place will be more crowded from now on." Roderich said. "I will have to have Antonio get the rest of the rooms in order. I'm sure that they are all quite dusty and need to be—"

Once more he was cut off by Elizabeta, who had scrambled up from the floor.

Except this time she kissed him. She kissed him. She kissed him! And when the shock had worn off, he kissed her back.

Well, that was one way to say 'I love you, welcome home'

* * *

**A/N:** Hon hon hon. Sappy ending is sappy /shot

The final chapter and the epilogue will most definitely be short and sweet, maybe a little sad. I'll even give you the title for the last chapter: "Farewells" Make of it what you wish.

I'm going to push myself to have this thing finished within the next two weeks. I've even put all my other fics on short hiatus' until I'm done with this one. Woooo~ Full speed ahead to the end!

-with love

dancer


	7. Farewells

**A/N:** It's 2:30 in the morning and I could just cry. But I'm not...because I would wake up my roommate. So I shall hold in my tears and emotions for the epilogue. Thank you so much to everyone that has been following this story. Again, I'll wait until the epilogue to make everything all formal and stuff. So yes. Until then. Enjoy the (kinda) final chapter

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But you should know this by now.**

* * *

_A Song for the Silent:_

_Farewells  
_

In the months following his return home, Roderich began to entertain the thought of moving. Not the whole household, whose inhabitants were now more noisy and irritating than ever, but just himself.

When he had lived alone, a so called bachelor—leaving the ruins of his so called home to spend the little money he had left on the small but lavish house that he had immediately been charmed by—it had been a quiet existence. Although, sometimes too quiet. Then he had met Antonio, who had brought into the silent house laughter and life. He had given Roderich his first experience of what a real family might be like: loud, annoying, and nosy but most of all, lovable. He had tried to keep his distance, tried to make himself cold and unfeeling towards them, but before he knew it, it had been too late. Even for Lovino and Feliciano, the affection was there, though very well guarded.

What he had felt for Antonio had been a mixture of gratitude and a fierce infatuation in the most inexperienced form. He had never dealt with that type of love, which made him feel both clumsy and weightless, and thus resolved to bury it beneath the grief and bitterness that he still carried so heavily on his shoulders. Him and Antonio. It would always be a 'what could have been'. And that was all.

But fate was a tricky mistress and before he his heart had barely recovered, in came Elizabeta. The night that they had met she had been so innocently honest that his first response had been to lash out. But she could not be rebuffed. Thinking back, he sometimes believes that it was the way she had snapped at him during their first meeting, the way she had stood up to him when so many others had backed down, that had enchanted him. She had eased her way into his life, into his heart and he had fallen so hard, so fast, that he hadn't even known he was in love with her until the day he had left to go back to the war. Their parting had been more painful than a body riddled with bullets or the feelings of your legs being blown to pieces by a rouge grenade.

But their reunion had been sweeter than he could have ever imagined. He still flushed whenever he remembered it. Unfortunately, once they had moved apart that day, the perfect opportunity to tell Elizabeta how he felt had been thoroughly ruined by Lovino—who had come marching into the music room, furious that they would be having more guests. He had had courtesy to grumble out a greeting to Roderich before announcing that if the new living conditions affected the dinner menu in any way, he would move out.

At that moment, Feliciano had come bounding in the music room, but in his excitement to see Roderich, he had tripped over the carpet and had gone sprawling into Ludwig's lap. The result had been an outburst by Lovino. After multiple accusations of rape and sexual molestation, Antonio had finally been able to calm him down with promises of pasta and tomatoes.

However, since then, Roderich had not had a chance to have a private conversation with Elizabeta. When she wasn't with Ludwig, she was with Gilbert. If either of them were out, she was with the twins or Antonio or arraigning the guest rooms or in town. Roderich was very busy himself. Now that the war was over, there was suddenly an increasing demand for pianists. People wanted to enjoy life again and forget the horrors of the past six years. He had offers from various neighboring cities and accepted them only because maintaining a household of seven people required a great deal of money.

The result was that he and Elizabeta rarely saw each other except during breakfast or dinner on the days he was home. But as the days and weeks passed, Roderich began to have doubts about her feelings. She was somewhat wary in his presence, almost shy and he couldn't help feel a twinge of jealousy when he saw her laughing with her cousins or Antonio. It was during times like that that Roderich most considered moving out. But in the end, he never did, and never would because he knew he couldn't leave any of them. Except perhaps Gilbert.

* * *

Roderich collapsed into the chair behind his desk. The clock beside him read half past midnight and the whole household was asleep. He had only just arrived back from Munich, having decided to endure the evening train instead of waiting until the morning. The city was still heavily damaged, but little by little, it was being rebuilt. There was even talk of opening a dance hall. With his popularity growing more than he would have liked, Roderich had been invited to hear about the plans for development. The whole trip had been dull, long, and fully exhausting. He had been gone for a total of two weeks and was glad to be under his own roof once more. Of course, he was sure by tomorrow—when Gilbert was bothering him during breakfast, which usually resulted in Elizabeta delivering swift justice on her cousin with a frying pan—he would once more start imagining himself packing his bags and closing the door behind him.

His musings were cut short by the door to his study opening. In walked Antonio with a small stack of papers in his hand.

"I thought I heard someone moving around." He said, closing the door behind him.

"Did I wake you up?" Roderich asked.

"No. I was actually having some trouble sleeping."

"Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong." Antonio said secretly. "Things are changing."

Roderich nodded. "I have to agree. This place has become much too crowded."

"Well, you won't have to worry about that for much longer." Antonio laid the papers in his hand on the desk.

Roderich picked them up and raised an eyebrow at what he saw.

"So this means…?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. We're all ready. This is the last thing that I have to do."

"This is very short notice."

"I was actually only informed two days ago."

Roderich bit his lip. "You don't have to do this. I don't need to sign these."

"Yes you do. It was inevitable that you would have to one day." Antonio saw Roderich's hesitation and gave him a small smile. "You can't keep both of us."

Roderich set down the papers. "Antonio, I…"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. You should sign those now."

Roderich sighed, but picked up the pen beside him. "Don't think for a second that I never…loved you." He said after he had signed his name at the bottom.

Antonio took the papers from his hand. "I know that now." He paused at the door. "You just love her more. Maybe we'll have a chance in another life. Goodnight Roderich."

"Goodnight."

* * *

When Elizabeta went downstairs the next morning, she was surprised to see the suitcases at the front door.

"Antonio," she said as she stepped into the kitchen, "are we having guests?" _Because I think Roderich would throw a fit,_ she thought as she took a clean cup from the shelf.

His back was to her as he moved around the small kitchen. "No," he said over his shoulder, "Feliciano, Lovino, and I are leaving."

Elizabeta nearly dropped the cup. "What? Where are you going?"

"Back to Italy. The war is over and we have no reason to stay here anymore. I got a letter from the family saying to bring the boys back home. They are beginning to come out of hiding and think it would be best if we all came back as soon as possible."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I only got the letter 2 days ago and we've all been busy."

"That's no excuse!" Elizabeta marched over to the stove, blocking Antonio's path. He gave her a sheepish grin. She only glared.

"You should have told me!"

"What's with all the yelling?" Roderich shuffled into the kitchen. "It is much too early for such loud noise."

"R-Roderich! You're back! Since when?" Elizabeta asked.

"Last night. What's going on in here?"

"Antonio and the twins are leaving!"

"I know."

Elizabeta's jaw dropped. "Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?"

"I only found out last night."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "You don't seem very upset about it."

Roderich didn't answer and instead busied him making tea. Elizabeta huffed and turned back to Antonio.

"You really should have told me earlier," She said. "I don't want you to leave."

"I don't want to leave either," Antonio said. "But we all knew that the twins and I couldn't stay here forever."

"This house just isn't going to be the same without you guys…" Elizabeta said.

"Miss. Elizabeta! Miss. Elizabeta!" Feliciano came running into the kitchen, nearly knocking over Roderich, who was handling hot water. Lovino slunk in behind him but hung back by the door.

"I don't want to leave you!" Feliciano said, wrapping his arms around her. She hadn't wanted to cry, but when Elizabeta saw the tears in his eyes, she couldn't hold back a sniffle.

"I don't want you to leave either."

"This is so stupid." Lovino said. "Why does everything have to be dramatic with you people?"

"You're not going to miss me, Lovino?" Elizabeta asked.

Lovino blushed. "I…I guess I will…a little…yes." He turned away so they wouldn't see him trying to remove the fleck of dirt that had somehow landed in his eye, making it watery.

"I see you're getting ready to leave, Antonio." Ludwig stepped into the kitchen, causing Lovino to hiss and move away from the door.

"What? Ludwig knew too?" Elizabeta shot Antonio an accusatory look.

He laughed lightly. "Yeah, I sort of mentioned it to him yesterday."

"_Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?_"

Roderich sighed as he sat down at the table. There was really no place like home.

* * *

"You have to write. If you can't manage every day, then at least once a week. Promise?" Except for Gilbert, who was still sleeping, everyone stood by the front door to see off Antonio, Feliciano, and Lovino.

"Promise." Antonio said.

"Hey Ludwig, can I write to you too?" Feliciano asked. Elizabeta almost cooed in delight at the way Ludwig blushed. For some reason or the other, Feliciano had become strangely attached to him. He followed him everywhere, like a soldier, taking any order given to him. At first, Ludwig had found it irritating, if slightly amusing. Eventually, he had become resigned to Feliciano's company and the two had formed a comfortable, if odd, friendship. Elizabeta didn't hide her hopes that it would become something more. Lovino didn't hide his absolute disapproval of the relationship in general.

"No you may not!" Lovino pulled his brother away from Ludwig. "If I see you writing any stupid letters to this potato bastard, I'll rip them up!"

"But Lovino, I want to keep in touch with Ludwig." Feliciano whined. "I don't want him to forget me. Wait, I just had a great idea! You should come visit me sometime, Ludwig. I'll show you all around Italy."

"HE'S NOT COMING TO OUR HOUSE."

Elizabeta felt a tap on her shoulder and reluctantly turned her head away from the drama unfolding in front of her. Antonio motioned for her to follow him to the sitting room.

"These are for you." He said as he handed her a small stack of papers that he had pulled out of his bag.

"What are they?"

"Divorce papers."

"Why are you giving me…oh…Antonio…" She didn't take the papers and wouldn't meet his eyes. "This isn't what I wanted…"

"This is how it's supposed to be."

"But why are you giving them to me?"

"Think of this as me handing over my title to you."

Elizabeta blushed. "Who said anything about Roderich and me getting married?" _Especially since I haven't told him how I feel…_

Antonio laughed. "Oh, but you will. I can tell. And when you do, it would be very inconvenient if he was already married to someone else. So I suggest you file those documents as soon as possible."

"I don't really know what to say."

"Well the first thing you need to do is say 'I love you' to him. Then you need to tell Gilbert that it's not safe to jump out second story windows."

"Say what?" Elizabeta whirled around just in time to see Gilbert fall in a heap in front of the house. Dropping the divorce papers on the table, she rushed outside—the rest of the household right behind her—catching him just as he was dusting himself off.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She shrieked, causing him to jump. "Do you want to break your leg again?"

"Weeeesssstt! You messed up the plan! You were supposed to be distracting her!" Gilbert groaned.

"You didn't say anything about jumping out of windows." Ludwig said.

Elizabeta was dumbstruck. "P-plan? What plan? Why do the people in my life insist on keeping me in the dark about everything? What in the world in going on? Is that a suitcase Gilbert?"

"Shit." Gilbert tried to hide the bag behind him, but quickly realized that it was a fruitless effort. "Yeah."

"Where are you going?"

"Paris. I'm going to go stay with Francis for a little while."

"And you weren't going to tell me?" Elizabeta couldn't believe she had let herself be so easily blindsided. "How long is 'a little while'?"

"Maybe two or three months. I'll be back soon."

Somehow, Elizabeta knew he was lying, even if he didn't know it himself. If she let him get on that train—unless she went to France herself, or he came home to visit—she would never see him again. The past few months had been like a dream; hectic and confusing at points, but relaxing and comforting. They had been a family in every way possible. Dysfunctional, annoying, fun, loving. And now, they were all setting out on their own paths. She knew she could be selfish. She knew if she begged enough or made a big enough fuss that Gilbert would stay. Maybe even Antonio would rethink going back to Italy and rip up the divorce papers. But she had no right to stop any of them from going where they wished and being with who they loved. It was in way, ironic. For years, she had wanted nothing more than for the people she loved to come home. And now she was letting them go.

But that was life.

Elizabeta smacked Gilbert over the head.

"What was that for?" He yelled.

"For trying to run away. Don't you dare keep secrets from me!" She turned to Ludwig. "The same goes for you. I don't need you guys to protect me. I can handle myself. If you want to go, then go. But if you don't want me dragging you back here by your ears, you better stay in touch. And you have to come home for Christmas."

"I said two or three months, not forever."

_You say that now,_ Elizabeta thought."Do you remember how to write a letter?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Of course. Except I'll have to send you Francis' new address. He had to get a new apartment because his neighbors kept filing complaints. He says he likes his new neighbors better."

Elizabeta winced. "Really? I can only imagine what they do for a living." _They're probably nudists_...

"He says that they're reporters covering post-war Paris. One's an American, the other is British. I actually don't think he likes the British one that much..."

"You better stay on your best behavior then. And if anything happens, just don't forget that I'll be here." She hugged him at the moment, knowing that this was farewell for the last time.

But what she felt when she pulled away, was not the familiar pain of loss, but instead, happiness. Because she knew that where Gilbert was going, he would be happy. He would have Francis. And Antonio would have Lovino, whether he knew it out not and Feliciano…well he might just have Ludwig. If everything worked out in the end.

As for her…she turned to Roderich and smiled. He returned it and she knew that she would have him.

After all, they were inevitable.

* * *

"This place is so quiet now." Elizabeta said as Roderich closed the door behind him. Ludwig had gone to see Gilbert off at the train station and even though she had asked to go along, with a not so subtle wink and a nudge, Gilbert had said that it would be best if she remained behind.

"I don't need you embarrassing me by crying." He had said, earning him another hit to the head.

She and Roderich had waved until everyone was out of sight before turning back to the empty house.

"I must say, it will take some time getting used to." Roderich said.

Elizabeta wrung her hands nervously. "I've been doing some work in town. I have a little money and I'll have enough to get my own place soon, so if you want me to move out…"

"No," he said and her heart soared. "I want you to stay here." In his mind, Roderich thought back to all the times he had entertained the thoughts of moving out to live on his own. Remembering them, he realized that when he had fantasized about picking up his suitcase, there had always been an extra one beside it. He never would have left her behind.

"This house is empty now, but we can fill it up."

"With what?" She hoped he didn't say children, because she hadn't even confessed her feelings, and there had been no marriage proposal, and she had never felt particularly maternal at all and…

"With love."

And that was all she needed to hear. In the past six years, she had spent so much time waiting. Always waiting. But they say the best things in life were worth waiting for.

This time, just this one time, she would have to agree.

* * *

**A/N:** It was impossible not to make this ending fluffy and sweet and sappy and omg, sugar overdrive.

I'll have the epilogue up ASAP!

-with love

dancer


	8. Epilogue

**A/N:** All good things must come to an end. I had a wonderful time writing this story and I just have to give a big, big, BIG thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through this whole thing. You guys are great! Please enjoy the official last chapter!

**Disclaimer: If you don't know by now, I don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_A Song for the Silent_

_Epilogue  
_

The woman in charge of the store was surprised when the young couple came inside, instead of walking past like most people did. She was even more surprised when she saw what the man was wheeling in front of him.

"Excuse me," he said when they reached her, "you take donations here, don't you?"

She nodded. "Yes. We take gently used clothing, furniture, and other assortment of goods. All donations go to those victimized by the war."

"Do you take wheelchairs?"

"It depends on their condition, but yes we do. How long have you had this one?"

"About six years, but I only used it for two. It's just been sitting around the house. I was going to throw it out until my wife suggested that we bring it here."

The woman next to him, whom the store owner assumed was his wife, smiled. "I've seen your sign so many times when I come into town and I've been meaning to come in here, but haven't had the chance until now."

"So what do you think?" The man asked. "Will you be able to take it?"

The store owner gave the wheelchair a quick check over. It was in excellent shape. It had been nearly cleaned and polished, and even though the model was outdated, it was practically brand new.

"Yes, I do believe I will," she smiled. "This is wonderful. I just had another woman come in this morning asking if we had any available wheelchairs. Her husband was crippled from the war and has been unable to get around since. Thank you so much."

"It's the least we can do," the woman said. "May I ask you something?" The store owner nodded. "Is it just you that works here?"

"Yes. Monday through Saturday and Sunday mornings."

"Well I was just wondering if you were looking for any extra help."

Once more, the store owner was surprised. She was a very hardworking woman and was reluctant to ask for any sort of assistance, but it was true that it was difficult to run such a store by herself.

The woman continued, "I've been looking for a way to get involved in the post-war movement and I really like what you are doing here. I personally know how devastating the war was to some families." She reached over to lace her fingers with her husband's and even though the store owner was tempted to ask, she kept her questions to herself.

"Even if it's just a few hours a day, I would be glad to help."

"Can I have your name, ma'am?"

"Elizabeta Edelstein."

"Mrs. Edelstein, I very much appreciate your offer. If you can come in tomorrow morning—around nine or so—we can talk more then."

Elizabeta smiled. "Thank you so much."

"No, thank _you_."

* * *

"That was unexpected," Roderich said after they left the store. "I didn't know you wanted a job."

Elizabeta shrugged, "I didn't know either. It was a spur of the moment decision. But I'm really excited about it now. Let's stop over at the post office before we go home. I'm expecting a letter from Gilbert." When they arrived, Elizabeta was surprised to find that not only did she have a letter from Gilbert, but a package as well. There was also a letter from Antonio and another plain letter with no return address.

"I wonder who this could be from," Elizabeta said as she glanced at the last letter when they arrived home. Roderich held open the gate to the house for her and they both made their way inside.

Elizabeta put the package and Gilbert and Antonio's letters on the kitchen table before opening the mysterious letter.

"It's a postcard," she said.

"Who puts a postcard in an envelope?" Roderich asked as he sat down across from her.

There was no message on the front, but when Elizabeta flipped the card over, she smiled at the picture on the front.

"It's from Natalya." She passed the postcard to Roderich. In the picture was Natalya and two other people that Elizabeta assumed were her brother and sister because of the resemblances. It had been taken at some amusement part—Elizabeta could see the rides in the background—and across the bottom of the picture ran the words "Greetings from America" in big bold font.

Elizabeta had only been slightly worried when she had gone to see Natalya to give her a wedding invitation and had found the dance studio deserted. But she had been confident that Natalya—smart and resourceful as she was—would find her way to wherever she wanted to go.

"Don't you think she looks happy?"

Roderich looked closer at the picture, "Not really. She's scowling…as usual."

"You're not looking close enough. See the curve in her lips? That's a smile."

Roderich still wasn't seeing it, but he had to admit that Natalya had a more relaxed disposition than he had ever seen her have so he supposed that was some indication that she was content where she was.

"I'm so glad that she found them," Elizabeta said, putting the postcard aside. "Whose letter should I open next?"

"Let's see what Antonio has to say."

"Maybe he and the twins are coming to visit again," she said happily as she opened the letter. She hadn't seen any of them since her wedding two years earlier. They all kept in touch via hundreds of letters a year and through Ludwig who often went to Italy for the new business he was working for.

"What does it say?" Roderich asked as Elizabeta scanned the letter.

"Well first off Ludwig is visiting again. Or at least he was when Antonio wrote this. He's probably still there."

"Do you think that he will stay this time?"

Elizabeta smiled, "I think so. And not just for business reasons."

"Lovino won't be happy about that."

"It might not be a problem. Antonio writes that he's going back to Spain soon."

"Is that so? What about his job?"

"Apparently, it's been decided by the family that neither Feliciano or Lovino are cut out to lead it."

"I could have told you that," Roderich mumbled.

"So Antonio is no longer needed as their bodyguard. Well isn't that loving? Your kids don't turn out the way you wanted so you leave them unprotected," Elizabeta said frowning.

"So Antonio's just going to leave them?"

"Well if Ludwig stays—and I'm pretty sure that he's going to—then Feliciano will have him. As for Lovino, well he'll follow Antonio anywhere."

"You think so?"

Elizabeta nodded, "Yes. He'll never admit it, but he won't let Antonio go—at least not without him. I can't believe Antonio is still so oblivious to his feelings."

"Nothing surprises me about those three anymore. Is that the entire letter?"

"Antonio wants to know when he'll be getting his part of the divorce settlement." Roderich blushed and looked away.

"It's still being processed," he said.

"It's been almost three years."

"Things like that take time."

Elizabeta sighed. Her husband could be so cheap sometimes. One of these days she was just going to wire the money to Antonio herself.

Finally, she moved on to Gilbert's letter. Roderich stood up from the table when she opened it.

"You can read that one to yourself. I would rather not hear what lewd behavior your cousin has gotten up to now." He began to arrange ingredients on the kitchen counter in preparation for lunch. Since Antonio had left, he had been forced to learn how to cook for himself. Elizabeta's food wasn't terrible…it just wasn't as good as Antonio's. She didn't enjoy cooking either so most of the time the meals were left to Ludwig—if he was home—or Roderich, who had adopted a fondness for cake recipes.

Elizabeta grinned as she read Gilbert's letter. Francis had decided to become a part-time designer. Elizabeta was impressed. The package contained a sample of his most recent work. Elizabeta winced. She still liked Francis very much, but she didn't trust him and suspected that whatever was in the box had a lot of lace, silk and not much covering. She would open it when Roderich was asleep.

Gilbert and Francis were still living next to the American and British reporters, who had decided to extend their stay. Gilbert said in his letter that him and Francis were still unsure whether the two men were just roommates or actually together. Francis was sure that they were secretly in love. Gilbert thought that they just needed to screw each other senseless. Elizabeta burst out laughing at this part.

"I really don't want to know," Roderich said from the stove.

Elizabeta snickered, "You really don't."

Gilbert continued by confirming that he and Francis would be visiting again for Christmas that year and that he hoped to be an uncle by then. Elizabeta scowled at this. She was in no hurry to have children and Gilbert better think again if he thought that when she did she would allow them to spend more than five minutes in his or Francis' company.

With a promise to write again soon, Gilbert finished the letter by describing Francis' elaborate plan to rope Alfred and Arthur—their neighbors—into a foursome. Laughing, Elizabeta refolded the letter.

"I'm guessing that he's doing well," Roderich said, sitting back down. The pot on the stove hissed softly.

Elizabeta giggled, bits of the letter still floating around in her head—especially the last part, "He's doing great."

"Are he and Francis still planning on getting married?"

"He didn't mention it, but I think they've given up on the idea. Neither of them is really the marrying type and they're happy the way they are. I don't think they could find a willing priest either. Not everyone can be as lucky as you and Antonio were."

"It wasn't luck, it was bribery."

Elizabeta laughed, "You never told me that!"

"Because it's nothing to be proud of. Anyway, like you said, they are happy the way they are. Marriage isn't for everyone." She raised an eyebrow and he added quickly, "Of course you and I are one of the luckier ones."

Elizabeta smiled. "Very true. I think we can even count as happily ever after."

"I wouldn't go that far."

Elizabeta made a face and Roderich gave her one of his rare smiles that had her falling love with him all over again.

"Let's go to the music room," she said.

"What about lunch?"

"Just one song."

"Which one?"

"You should know by now."

"I'll never understand why that one is your favorite," Roderich said as they walked to the music room.

"Because you were playing it when we met," Elizabeta took her place behind Roderich and let her thoughts drift as he began.

When she had first heard the song, she had called it truth. Blunt and merciless it had reflected the pain in her heart and, at the time, she had believed that she had understood it. But she had been wrong. It was not truth, it was just a song. Beautiful and somber, it was enchanting. But it was not the sound that mattered but what it had done when it had ended. The song had brought together two people wrapped in the bitter silence of their own grief and guilt and together, they had mended what was broken and filled what was empty with love.

Roderich finished the last note with a flourish and arranged the sheets of music so that the title page was on top.

_Yes,_ Elizabeta thought, _the song was aptly named._

It was called "_Serendipity_"

_The End_

* * *

**A/N:** Endings always make me emotional ;A; I hope you guys enjoyed it! I love AusHun so expect more of them from me in the future.

And with that, I declare this fic DONE. Thanks again!

-with love

dancer


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